One Star To The Next
by Daerunia
Summary: A crossing of paths sparks an unlikely friendship between a peculiar girl and an anti-social boy. One finds their way in the vast, unforgiving world while the other begins to drown in it, victim to their own independence. Though on different paths, they both face the looming war, the threat of darkness, the sting of loneliness, the guilt of murder; everything but peace.
1. Bandits, Books, and Axes

**_One Star to the Next_**

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 _Disclaimer: FE Echoes belongs to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.  
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 _A hard hand clapped on his shoulder just as Kliff pocketed something away, and he didn't have to hear the fool open his mouth to know that it was Tobin. Of course it was. It was always Tobin. "Who was that girl back there, Kliff? Don't tell me you're embarking on a grand, exciting adventure and you plan on leaving a woman waiting for you to return home?! How the hell does a guy like you end up with a fairy tale ending like that and I-..."_

 _"It's not like that, Tobin."_

 _"...Oh. It isn't?"_

 _"It's not." Simple, confident, collected._

 _"You SWEAR?!" Tobin bounced in front of his friend, walking backwards as he scrunched his nose and scrutinized him. "Cross your heart? Are you blushing? You're definitely blushing!-... Alright, alright. You're not to type to blush anyways, huh? Just... who the hell was she, anyways? Does she have a sister? An older sister, preferably. Are you tuning me out again? Look, you've got to give me the details, man!"_

 _"Gods, you moron... Can't you think about anything else?" Kliff pushed him aside playfully, and Tobin quickly fell back into place beside him, though his smile was waning._

 _An audible choke shook Tobin's voice, and a dark mask of fear dropped over his features. "I didn't mean to bug you man, it's just that I needed to think about something else. Anything else. Kliff, we're really going to war, aren't we? I'm... I'm scared."_

 _Pity touched Kliff's stony features as this time he gripped his friend's shoulder, shaking him out of his stupor. "Come on, don't get all spooked on me. If it shuts you up, I'll tell you on the way."_

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 ** _Ch.1_**

 ** _Spirituality and Axe Ladies_**

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"Do you hear spirits speak to you? They say that's how dark mages are born." Kliff's eyes flitted up from the page of his tome, finally realizing that someone had been standing over him. He had stolen away from the other students that were still hanging about outside the school after class. They clustered in groups of friends and traveled back to Ram Village; that, or waited for their parents to ensure safe travels. Kliff, not wanting to even think about the nagging that would come along with being escorted by his mother or sister, always chose to go home alone. From time to time (and as fate would have it, this time), he stopped beneath the green shade along the river to lose himself in chapter after chapter of history tomes.

Kliff was certainly an odd one, and he was very conscious of it. The boy didn't need to overhear his mother's gossiping friends to know that the adults took pity on his thin frame and pale skin, often at odds with the dark skin, dark eyes, and dark hair of the other boys and girls who basked in the sun while they worked on their parents' fields and played in the river. They thought him sickly and in need of special attention, for fear that he might break. He found it curious that the adults talked about him like this, and yet their children took it upon themselves to make his life hell, as if they were _trying_ to break him.

Finally his eyes adjusted to the light blinding him from behind the girl that had spoken to him; no, perhaps the term "woman" was more accurate. She was older than he, but likely no older than his other friends. Thick in chest and hips, the browns and greens of the village women didn't seem to flatter her too much. Pale strawberry-blonde locks stuck to her face and cheeks from the heat and her nose was red, dappled with freckles from working in the sun. His eyes were drawn to the axe hanging at her hip before they returned back to her own hazel gaze.

"Can I help you with something?" He muttered, annoyed to have his solace intruded upon. Was she a sister of one of the bullies, here to harass him even moreso? The last thing he had any interest in was company, especially of the unpleasant sort.

"I already asked you a question, and it was far more conversational than yours, you know." She said with a sassy half smirk on her face, wiping her brow before apologizing. "I didn't mean to come across as rude, it's just... I study those old tomes all the time, know them cover to cover, and haven't heard a thing from the spirit world. The very last thing I expected was to see a boy your age clutching one of those, especially around here."

Kliff felt his annoyance fold to his own curiosity, closing the tome in his lap. To speak of dark magic in Ram Village was to pen your own writ of exclusion. For some reason the villagers believed that spells shamed the good name of the Earth Mother, though it was known all throughout the land that magic was a gift that many used to serve Mila. It was only here, in such closed-minded pockets of the world, that children who heard the voices of the spirits were frowned upon. It was for that reason that he stole away from the others as it was; even his own mother didn't like the idea of knowing her son was a potential magic conduit, despite her being the one who had found him such books in the first place.

To swing a sword was a gift, but to be blessed by the wisdom of the goddess herself was a curse. In many of Kliff's books, history and geography wove a different tale, but for now it was all he could do to simply try to blend in, outcast though he already was.

These thoughts alone, and the unpleasant reminder that came with them, made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. And as much as he would have enjoyed having someone to talk to, his guard was as high as could be.

"Why are you sweaty, and why do you have that?" He nodded at her axe warily, distrustful coral eyes peering from beneath his disheveled silvery locks.

She lifted her chin, wearing a wry smile. "I was running for exercise, and I happened to pick it up. And then I decided to make my way to the woods and bring home some firewood." She was lying, perhaps being sarcastic, but her voice made it difficult for him to be sure. Her accent was one that he couldn't place, but it certainly didn't belong to someone who grew up in a backwater village like Ram. "My turn. How did a boy such as yourself get ahold of those kinds of books in the first place? And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with what you learn?"

Kliff didn't know why, but he found himself telling her. "The thought of living my life out at this village just turns my stomach, but everyone keeps hammering the point home that I'm not as strong as my friends. I figured if I knew magic, then maybe I could do some traveling of my own." A scoff passed his lips, and he shook his head as he set his book aside. "Are you some kind of dark spirit here to tell me I have a gift or something? I've lived here my whole life and haven't ever seen you."

"You seem plenty strong to me," she stated, scrutinizing him in a way that made his face flush. It was just like an adult to pander niceties and pat him on the back as opposed to being honest. She avoided both of his questions, and he duly noted that.

The boy rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar thread of annoyance tugging at him. "Oh, come on…"

"I mean it! You don't look any different than any other boy running around Ram, though maybe a bit on the short side. Why don't you give my axe a swing and see how you fare, huh?" She held it out in front of him hilt first, giving him a smile that was almost apologetic.

"Seriously? That thing would break my arms off..." His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes and unleashed a sigh, a trademark Kliff expression. "Besides, lady, I'm trying to read. Would it kill you to lay off?" Despite his complaining, he was on his feet and brushing his clothing clean, as if his body knew that he wanted to try a swing before his mind agreed.

She placed one hand on her hip and held the weapon out to him with the other still, wearing a worried smile on her lips. "…I didn't mean to tease you into trying, I admittedly noticed the cover of your book and was overcome with nosiness. In all honesty, it's dangerous around here. Nobody should tarry too long."

Kliff gave his exasperated look again, not even aware that he did so. "No, don't go yet, I want to give it a whack for the hell of it. Besides, I come here all the time by myself, it's not an issue. Nothing to be scared of as far as I know, and I'm still alive." Nose wrinkled in uncertainty, he held the weapon in both hands as Mycen had taught him to do with a sword, but it merely felt lopsided and uncomfortable. How did she grip it with just one hand so easily? He wound it up over his shoulder like a bat and gave a half swing, trying to stop just in front of him and fumbling from the weight.

Letting out a cry of surprise, the woman leaned away with both arms raised in a mercy gesture. "Before you swing that with no warning, you should know that the woman you might kill is named Rune."

Embarrassed at his blunder Kliff stepped back, thought her name brought a smile to his face. "All that talk about dark spirits and your name happens to be Rune? Well, isn't that magical." The axe nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he shook his head. "I'm Kliff, by the way." A breeze picked up the fine hair at the nape of his neck, bringing with it the smell of flowers. Spring meant pollen and pollen meant his mother forcing him to stay tucked away in bed away from the world.

"It's a nickname, but you have an excellent point, Kliff." At the call of a crow, she cast her hazel gaze to the sky, a worried look crossing her features. "I guess it's getting a little late, isn't it?"

"Scared of the dark?" He twisted his body and swung at an adjacent tree, feeling his hands ache as the edge split the bark and little else. His hands released the handle almost in an instant, his palms stinging as the heavy tool dropped to his feet, far too close to his toes for his liking. He expected her to laugh at him and flinched, but she did no such thing. Instead, her eyes were locked onto the darkening grove of tree just across the river. He tilted his head, unable to spot anything even with his perfect vision. "Lady?"

"Now of all times they decide to show up. Give me that axe back." Her tone was vastly different, sharp though it was barely above a whisper. She held her hand out expectantly, and he didn't question her. With effort, he picked it back up and passed it to her, feeling a twinge of heat in his face as she easily held it in one hand. He wasn't frightened, not even by her behavior, until the stomping and breaking of twigs broke over the rumble of the lazy river. Two hunkering men emerged from their cover, both holding tight to gleaming daggers. They were laden with sacks both empty and full, food smeared on their faces as their voices gurgled with drink.

"Good eye, my man," the thinner of the two remarked, a gross grin smacked onto his ugly features as his drunken eyes gleamed with familiarity at the woman beside him. Kliff wasn't a self proclaimed genius, but it suddenly became very clear that Rune hadn't been just running to run, nor had she just picked up the axe for the hell of it. She was being pursued.

"Told you I spotted the wench heading out on her own, yeah? Giiiirrrlliiiieeee, giiiiirrrlliiieee! You got some sweet treats for a coupla' lost travelers?!" Drunk as they were, they weren't too incapacitated to be wanting for trouble and began to cross the stream, not a stumble to their step.

"Don't be frightened Kliff," She muttered softly, raising her free arm in front of him. "Don't speak, and don't run. I've been waiting on these two for a few days now, but luring them away from the village after their drinking binge seemed to be the best course of action."

"Afraid? I've dealt with bandits before. Did you really have to play nice if you were just going to get a stranger involved in trouble..." His voice didn't waver and though it wasn't a lie, it was many years ago now that he had stood with his friends and fought off a few rogue knights of Desaix. But back then, Mycen had been there, as well as Alm... fear did grip at his heart, but it wasn't difficult to remain stoic and stand upright.

"I sincerely didn't mean to," she admitted, brow knitting in worry though her gaze remained locked on the other two.

"Ain't yer momma taught you to listen when yer spoken to, ya witch?" The more heavyset of the two was a fair few paces away now, keeping his distance as the other paced to block any escape route.

Kliff watched, large coral orbs widening in curiosity, as she brandished her axe and let it fall into the crook of her shoulder, feet planted shoulder width apart. She certainly looked the part of a warrior, at least. A smile touched her lips as she cocked an eyebrow at the duo, her voice suddenly not sounding the least bit on edge as she called over to the two plodding fools.

"My father taught me to never talk to strangers, especially those who steal from houses and stores in the dead of night like cowards."

 _'Not smart...'_ Kliff felt sweat break out across his forehead at this bold statement in the face of danger, especially as both men moved closer with their weapons gripped tight at their sides.

"Oh, where's ya daddy now, huh? What business have you and this little one got out here all alone, aye?" The one closest to Kliff pointed his dagger and Kliff opened his mouth to respond, but Rune stepped in front of him in an instant, almost completely obscuring his view with her height. Her free hand was outstretched, and Kliff unleashed his trademark sigh in silent, shaky relief, moving closer to the safety of the near-stranger's back.

"Not a good idea there. He's a dark mage you know. If he were to get upset, then it's likely we would all end up dead." Her voice had dropped to a deathly growl, one that seemed to convince the bandits as they murmured curses in hushed tones and took a step back. "Surely even lowborn fools like yourselves know to fear being burned alive or electrocuted into oblivion."

Kliff didn't expect it to be convincing at all, but both bandits stood upright, appraising the both of them with squinted, ugly eyes. "Ain't nobody except Duma faithful got that kinda magic around here, ya know. Maybe we'd best just let it be and come back. 'Sides, Mycen's around still, and they say his grankid-..."

"Shut yer hole! If we haven't gotten all there is to be got, yer mum's a fool!" They were talking amongst themselves, clueless idiots who hadn't realized her bluff. If they weren't drunk enough, if they weren't stupid enough, if they had enough time to realize... the entire situation would likely end in bloodshed.

 _'Gods, it's working! Hurry up and finish it, please...'_ Kliff mentally begged, certain that just holding their ground would be enough, when suddenly Rune was charging forward and swinging her axe with both hands at the more narrow of the two bandits. Perhaps caught up in the illusion that the pale skinned little boy was going to spontaneously explode and murder them with his dark arts, they both unleashed screams and backed away, their stupor finally catching up to them.

"This village is right done as it is, let's just be out!" The larger man was stumbling over himself in his attempt to escape, completely fine with leaving his partner behind. The narrower, who had just barely stepped backwards enough to avoid having his throat slit open, fell into the babbling brook behind him and unleashed a scream that resonated through the trees. He panicked, scrambled, and then was after his partner before Kliff had a chance to do anything besides stand and stare.

And then it was over. Still at a loss for words and with his knees trembling with fear, Kliff looked to where the brigands had been and then turned his quizzical gaze towards Rune, who had rested her axe back against the tree where they had first met only... could it have really been minutes ago? To keep his hands from shaking he balled them into fists, locked firmly at his sides as he felt his skin crawl at the realization that cold sweat had been running down his back.

"What if that hadn't worked, Rune? Or what if you hadn't missed and had hit that guy?!" He finally broke his silence, frustrated at the feeling that he had been a bit used.

"Then we would be injured, or he would be dead." She dusted her hands clean, tilting her head at his angry expression. "You were quite brave."

"I didn't do _anything_!" He gave pause, taking a moment to catch his breath. Allowing his reeling thoughts to calm, he let out a sigh and squatted down beneath the treescape, elbows on his knees. "...I'm sorry. Thank you, I don't know what I would have done had I been cornered alone. …Are you a mercenary?"

Her chuckle was sinister and sarcastic. "Do I look like a mercenary?" Her voice told him that he was a fool for asking, but his answer was a silent yes. "You wouldn't have been cornered alone, considering they were after me. They wouldn't have come this way if not for my leading them somewhere away from the villagers." She tucked an unruly lock of hair away from her forehead, looking up at the sky once again. "But you're welcome. Will you be safe making it home? Gather your things and be out of here before they get the wise idea to come back."

"Of course I'll be fine, I come this way every day." He turned and began to gather his books in his arms, dropping one in the process and quickly snatching it back up. "How about you? Do you truly live in Ram Village and expect me to believe I've never seen you before?" He turned back around to face her, only to see that she had completely vanished. He looked around, even glancing above and hoping to spot a sign of trampled grass or wet leaves from her crossing the river, to no avail. "Lady? ...I mean, Rune?"

His reply was the idle silence of the wood, whispering through the trees and stirring his unruly locks. As suddenly as she had appeared, she had vanished in turn, leaving nothing to show that she had ever existed besides her axe, resting against the tree under which they had met.

A chill ran up his spine as his eyes darted around the trees, looking for any sign of her. Had it not been for the axe that was lying so close to him, the entire encounter could have been a dream. Or perhaps, a brush with the shoulder of the spirit world.

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 ** _Author's Note:_** _Updated on 06/30/2019_


	2. Small Talk and Scars

**_One Star to the Next_**

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 **Disclaimer:** _Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo_

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 ** _Small Talk and Scars_**

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Weeks, days, months, and then seasons had gone by, each one bringing him closer to finishing his horrendous schooling and bringing him further and further from the day he had met the woman in the woods. For a while he was troubled, certain that her vanishing act meant that the entire encounter had been a simple, fleeting dream. Perhaps the spirits were truly trying to speak with him, as she had suggested? The memory was becoming thin, fading and becoming more and more ethereal with each day. A part of him still wanted to walk past the same spot in the forest after each day of class with the slightest fancy of a hope that it truly was a messenger of the spirit world, here to usher him into a grander design.

Or perhaps it was the wishful thinking of a boy with wanderlust, but naivety kept him from coming to terms with that notion.

The axe still sat in the shade, enduring a full year, then spring and summer and the start of autumn, as tangible as the shoes on his feet or the hair on his head. Still, he found himself wanting for a second encounter each time that his mother and sister reminded him of why he wanted to leave in the first place. Ram Village was synonymous with stifling, crippling claustrophobia for someone like him, someone who watched the daily lives of the villagers and felt ill at their mundane cycles of simplicity.

Over three seasons he matured, still longing for an escape but no longer clinging steadfast to the idea that he had happened upon a spirit emissary. And yet he could feel it, as his schooling ended and his days of being a target for bullies faded fast to finding an identity for himself. He was waiting for something; a call to arms, perhaps.

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"Isn't it a little cold for autumn? I mean, come on! You take that hike on your own, buddy!"

Much to Kliff's disdain, he was accompanied by his friend Tobin, an immature, albeit good looking guy who had a way of drawing the wrong kind of attention with his big mouth. It was rather easy to ignore a guy like that for Kliff, especially considering that all of Tobin's thoughts were occupied by the girls that had finished schooling in Kliff's year. Girls and gold, gold and girls. It was all the brunet seemed to be capable of thinking of, and his easy talk made it all the easier for him to be tuned out. Kliff stopped in his tracks beside the same tree along the same river, hearing a high, heady tone hitting his ears. It was a melody, a somber one that caused his head to tilt; its familiarity uncanny.

"I'm not hiking, and nobody asked you to join me. You invited yourself, Tobin." Not bothering to spare the older boy even a glance to satisfy his offended expression, Kliff folded his arms over the heavy book that was clutched to his chest. "As a matter of fact, reading is generally better in quiet company, you know."

"Reading? Not my thing. I was pretty sure I overhead Faye mentioning that a bunch of the graduating girls were going swimming in the river. It made sense to me that you were heading the same way I was!" Tobin dropped a hand on Kliff's messy head, harshly ruffling his hair and earning a half growl, half groan.

"Really? THAT made sense to you? That I was going to go waste my time spying?" He smacked Tobin's hand away, eliciting a cheeky chuckle from his aggravating friend.

"I'll keep that attitude in mind if ever you need a wing-man. You can just consider yourself friendless as of right... now." Tobin teased, turning on his heal back towards the village. He paused to see if Kliff would beg for him to stay, only to get a mumbled, sassy retort.

"You'd be doing me a favor." no punches pulled, the blond watched in disinterest as Tobin's face pulled to object, softened into hurt, and then turned to a bratty, playful grimace as he marched back towards the main path with renewed vigor. With that nuisance gone, he moved towards the tree where a rusted axe had recently rested, spotting the flap of a bag from around its trunk. Ah, the culprit of the music.

Inching closer, he peered around the bark, sneaking up upon his prey with catlike silence. As if a cruel joke, he heard Tobin's oh so recent words about spying and mentally kicked himself, realizing that he was doing that very thing. Regardless, Kliff recognized the woman instantly, though now she wore her hair piled high, argumentative curls of the palest coral escaping to fall across her features. The difference, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, was a wiggling, white scar stretching from her right temple to the profile of her ear. Kliff was taken aback by it, almost feeling as if the words he were about to speak would be wasted on someone who was...

Ugly? No, the wound was ugly, but she was not. Broken? A terrible term. Both shallow, hateful words to even consider saying to someone, let alone someone who had been kind to him. But something about the fact that he had met her before and never once noticed it made him uncomfortable. "What's the noise about?" He finally found it within himself to speak up, startling her into a sudden squeak of her small instrument.

Their gazes locked and Kliff realized, not without experiencing a sensation of heavy irony, that she didn't recognize him. And then slowly her hazel eyes lit with realization and she rose to her feet, stumbling and nearly tripping over her heavy skirt. Her awkward motion made it very clear that she wasn't used to such things.

" My, you've gotten so tall that I didn't..." she trailed off with her right hand floating at her forehead's height, following with a sheepish laugh. "My friend of the forest an all things forbidden has come back, this time with a growth spurt. You look like you're doing well!"

"Guess you're saying I was shrimpy before, huh?" He smirked, placing a hand on his hip as he nodded towards he hands. "You can fight and you can play music. Your husband must not be left with anything but housework."

Her amicable smile turned to a stern frown as her eyes darkened. "I'll take no husband, and I've no intentions of marrying a villager with no aspirations and pockets lined with needless gold! Nor a noble so proud of his station that he believes he can buy a mare to sire snobbish children with!" She said this with such sudden ferocity that he was startled into silence, blinking in surprise at the sudden anger.

Clearly, he had touched a nerve. "I'm, uh, going to presume that's a tough subject."

"Aye..." A growl escaped her throat, thick with frustration. "My step-mother is of the mind that it's perfectly acceptable to auction her daughter to the highest bidder so that she can continue a life of luxury. Of course, being sensible, I got out of here and set to work making money off of actual effort."

Suddenly, it was quite clear as to why he never saw her around. Foolishly he had convinced himself that she was a spirit, when in all actuality, she was naught but a human. A shame that the realization made his heart sink."So you just... ran away before?" It took no time for him to piece it together, confirming his suspicions as she wrinkled her nose and nodded, turning the carved ocarina in her hands.

"A parade of pigs coming to meet me, only to find me gone from my home. For women to be bought and sold as trophies or maids... to think of it just enrages me. Some people actually convince themselves that they're happy like that." Gracelessly, she sat back down against the tree, fumbling with her small ocarina with twitching hands. "Stay if you want, if you can tolerate my squeaking and squalling. I just couldn't deal with looking at her face..."

"Actually, I was going to go, ah..." A long pause, whatever excuse he was going for fading on his lips. He sat down beside her at last, blinking at the flute in her hands and noticing how something twisted in his gut at the realization that he had stumbled upon her again. Though Kliff knew the flow of social courtesy deemed it his turn to say something else, instead he fell silent. Quiet, in such a setting as this, wasn't awkward, for it didn't take long for Rune to resume her playing to sing along with the sounds of nature. It started out low and quiet as she found the fingerings again, and then she started over, parading from a solid high note and spiraling down to a relaxing lull, one that was pleasing to the ear. If she was bothered by his presence, she made no note of it.

Conversation forgotten, Kliff cracked open a book with little thought to much else, and it wasn't long before his setting was lost to him, replaced by one of history and Hero-Kings. Pages flipped by as the sun did the same, tracing a lazy trail through the sky. His rear had gone numb what must've been hours ago, but the thought of having to move, breaking from the other reality just for a minor inconvenience, wasn't worth the effort it would take to go back.

Within his pages were the teachings of both Duma and Mila, something that local tomes seemed to be lopsided on. They were either one or the other, with strict rules against the opposing deity, despite their fragile balancing act. Within the pages, Kliff began to notice that the narrator's words had gone from informative and freelance to harsh and one-sided, likely proving to be another heavily edited book to suit the local palate. With this atmosphere of history shattered by the feeling of harsh Desaix intrusion, he closed the book with a heavy clap and tossed it onto the grass, finally unfolding his legs and stretching them out in front of him. His left hand twirled at a lock of unruly pale blond, a habit that he wasn't even aware of except on occasion where his arm would grow tired from it.

Finally, the tranquil song came to an abrupt halt as Rune lowered her ocarina, letting it fall on her chest, hanging from the ribbon that kept it around her neck. "I suppose that's enough."

"Was that a prayer?" Kliff eyed the instrument with some interest, noting how simple it looked. It wasn't unheard of for bards and singers to worship though music, and this place certainly seemed as if it would be one close to the Earth Mother. Without thinking, he reached out to touch it, surprised by how smooth it felt despite looking as if it were hewn from the very bark against which they rested.

"Don't you know better than to reach at a woman's chest, you ruffian!?" Rune scoffed, covering the ocarina with her hand as he recoiled in turn, color rising to his cheeks. The boy tugged at his hair again as she took the ocarina from around her neck, fumbling over his words.

"Ah, that wasn't... I wasn't trying to. Sorry," his apology was almost mumbled, interrupted as she held it out for him to hold.

"I was only kidding, don't apologize." She chuckled, bemused at his mixture of embarrassment and now, annoyance. "I wouldn't consider it a prayer, but it is a song I heard when I was little. My mother would sing it for me when we went out walking, but I don't have her voice. I don't even remember the name, but it makes me think of the forest here. The forest, the stars, and something mystical and both soothing and lonely. Perhaps that's a mouthful of a name, yes? One Star, maybe." She tilted her head as he turned it over in his hands. "Give it a try, if you want."

"I wouldn't even know what I'm doing, I'd just make a racket." He shrugged, holding it back out to her in his palm. She pushed his fingers closed over it with her own, refusing his rejoinder.

"Oh, give it a try! You just blow steady. The few holes on the top are for your fingers, and the one on the bottom is always to be closed unless the song calls for it otherwise. Just playing with it will give you insight into how it should sound. It doesn't take any real talent... hence my skill."

"Alright..." Face flushed at being scrutinized, Kliff gave it his best go, letting out a squeal into the mouthpiece that wavered to and fro and then finally smoothed out just as he felt his lungs grow tired, spiraling the note into a weaving whimper. She was correct though, it certainly did seem to want to show him how to play. Kliff inhaled again, this time blowing a fine, steady note that held strong as he measured the amount of air he gave it as opposed to blowing with all of his might at once. Pausing, he blinked at her, wide eyed, awaiting feedback.

Unbeknownst to him, her chest tightened ever so slightly at his expression, endeared to his curiosity. "You've got a great steadiness. If you'd like, you can play with that ocarina for a while. It wouldn't take too much to procure another one. But here, I'll show you the fingerings for that song so you can annoy your family with it."

Her hands covered his, long fingers adjusting his stiff hands over the holes with wisdom. He watched carefully, hoping to remember them, but instead felt himself growing frustrated at the overload of information. "Your fingers... they aren't calloused." Kliff commented, feeling foolish for noticing that detail and not retaining a lick of information about the damned complex mini-flute. "How?"

"Women have many secrets to maintain their beauty and softness. Though I'll thank you for noticing." She snarked in a false haughty tone, turning over his hand with her own and tsking. "Yours are, though. Have you been doing something more dangerous than studying and spending time with the river?"

"I train from time to time with Mycen and spar with a couple of my friends. I guess I'm not as good as Gray or Alm, but I guess it helps to know how to swing a sword." He felt himself recalling nearly a year ago, where he blurted such things with little cause as opposed to caution under the same tree. The same river churned and spoke, the same stones and roots laid buried, and yet he felt as if he had changed far more than the red leaves, growing more and more dissatisfied with his existence. Would it be an ungrateful sin to speak this?

"I do enjoy learning about you, but are you finished with the small talk?" Rune said unexpectedly, dashing his minor lapse into a half daydream.

"...Excuse me?"

"You know, small talk. When you pander niceties as if it matters, when realistically you have something more to say. Something more relevant." Her smile was cynical, cast towards the river. "Small talk. Noun. You've been giving me the most curious look this entire time, so go ahead and ask what you want to ask."

There was something about the sincerity in her tone shift that felt reassuring and real. His back pressed against the bark of the tree as his arms encircled a raised knee, taken by his opportunity to speak his mind freely. "Where did you get that scar? I don't think you had it before. And why were you gone for so long? I thought you really were a spirit. To be honest, I'm disappointed that you're not."

Her fingers raced to the mark on her face, long fingers tracing its length absently, perhaps out of habit. "This? Maybe… maybe we could talk about that another time." Rune's creased brow softened as she attempted to withhold a laugh that refused to quell itself within her chest, bursting from her lips despite her attempt to stifle it. "Oh gods, a spirit from the underworld indeed...!"

"You told me to ask…" He grumbled under his breath, annoyed that she had laughed at his notion of her being ethereal. "If you're going to laugh at me, then you better swear that you'll tell me next time."

She blinked, an amused smile plastered to her face. "My my, you've certainly become aggressive, just demanding what you want to know! I admit, I find it refreshing. Next time, for sure. Perhaps tomorrow? Anytime, really. Besides, I won't be going anywhere else for a long time."

"Really?" He didn't mean to sound sarcastic, but the one word that he did certainly came across that way. "Tomorrow?"

"We're friends, right? Is there a problem with seeing you tomorrow?"

"N-no, I didn't say that. And who decided we were friends?" He backpedaled, finding that his mouth was only going to lead to him being severely disliked. "Wait, what I meant was, uh, not that it's a problem-… I've had the same friends since before I started school, I don't exactly know how to… ugh."

Rune's eyes gleamed brightly, even more tickled at his stammering. "There isn't a protocol, Kliff. Or would you rather sign a friendship contract with your blood?"

"That sure sounds like something a dark spirit would say…" he chided, offering a smirk.

Another easy laugh, one that wasn't touched with dark, existential witticism. "If I had otherwordly wisdom at my disposal, I would have done a great many things differently. But encountering you that first time? That would remain the same, I'd like to think. You're the first person I've felt any kind of kinship with since I've lived here." Absently she stroked the pale mark along her cheek, motioning at her ocarina again. "You really should keep it. Consider it a token of friendship, and perhaps practice it."

"I'll master it in no time. As you said, it doesn't take talent, right?" He rolled it in his hands, feeling color rise to his face. How odd to hear the word friendship spoken as a noun, an actual thing. It seemed that friends just happened, people that others were forced to interact with either clashed or fell into an contented place wordlessly. To consider a friend 'found,' or 'made...'

What a concept.

* * *

 _"This isn't as sexy as I hoped it would be."_

 _Kliff pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to stop a Tobin-migraine that was already in the works. "I never said it would be anything like that. Look, you're the one going out of your way to nag me. I'm just answering your questions, and that's that. You're eating it up like a bedtime story."_

 _"Hearing you go on and on is actually a pretty great distraction, you know. But what happened with the scar, anyways?" Tobin propped his head up on an elbow, feeling his stomach how with hunger. "Man, it's been days since we've had provisions... don't say 'eating' in front of me."_

 _"There are more important things you should worry about, like sleep. But if you really want to know, I'll tell you the story tomorrow." Aching, his thin blade wounds still gently pressing drops of crimson into his muddy shirt, Kliff nestled into his sleeping bag with his gaze turned towards the expanse of stars, feeling the same tune itching at the back of his mind._

 _A few feet away, Tobin's voice, harrowed and honest, quietly rose back up. "Heya, Kliff? Do you think... if Clive decided that there were just too many of us to feed and had to sever the weakest link, who do you think that would be...?"_

 _"Come on..." The soldier groaned, once again feeling pity for his closest friend's self-inflicted feelings of inferiority. His sudden shift in tone felt so familiar that his heart ached as his cuts and scrapes did, but it carved a much deeper wound. "Alm wouldn't let that happen."_

 _"Would he, though...?"_

 _"He wouldn't."_

 _A pause; Kliff had thought Tobin had finally fallen into sleep, but his voice stirred one final time. "People say dumb fluffy things like 'it takes every star to light up the night sky,' but some stars are brighter than the next. Hell, one Sun makes an entire day, you know?" Tobin hadn't realized this his words sounded nearly profound. "If Alm's the Sun, I'm just... ugh. Does it really matter that I'm here? You know what I'm talking about?"_

 _Hand over his chest, unconsciously feeling his own heartbeat as his eyes closed to the brightness of the stars, Kliff could only sigh in response. "I do, Tobe."_

* * *

 ** _A/N: Revised on 2/27/2018_**


	3. Matriarchy and Murder

_**One Star to the Next**_

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer_** _: Fire Emblem Echoes belongs to Nintendo._

* * *

 ** _Ch. 3_**

 ** _Matriarchy and Murder_**

* * *

Gripping tightly to the handle of her axe, Rune pressed her wounded back against a shambled wall, a remnant of what might have been a house and was now merely a scorched, roofless slab. Shelter it was not, but it provided plenty of cover enough for her to gulp air into her lungs, feeling agony prick at her rib cage with every inhale. Her ears were so strained for the sound of footfalls that they seemed to pulse with their own individual ache, her teeth tight in a grimace of pain and pink with blood that she had been spitting up since the first armored blow to her side.

A deep male voice echoed from somewhere nearby, close enough that she knew she couldn't stay where she was. "I would ask that you come out and hasten your end; I have other assignments to deal with." Her fingers tightened around her stolen axe with a fear-guided grip that turned her knuckles white.

Her pulse throbbing dangerously in her ears, Rune closed her eyes to her pain for a split second, cursing her step-mother's name. Such a naive woman she was, drunk on the idea that she could have her life of luxury restored by selling her own step-daughter.

In her foolishness, she had sold Rune to a nameless nobleman who in turn tossed her to a den of Duma Faithful. Maria likely sat now in Ram Village, wondering when her reward would arrive, while her vigilante child found herself trapped in a den of women turned witches, fighting for her every breath and praying that it wouldn't be her last. It seemed she lacked what was necessary to become a witch, making her no more than a witness that had to be eliminated. Her execution had been left to a scarcely human creature with purpled, fetid skin and the eyes of a corpse long turned to rot, one that was called Gaunt.

Confident in her strength, she had found enough within her to escape, but a mere sideswipe from the haunting baron had left her as debilitated as she was, scarcely able to do anything besides panic and flee. It was clear that he wasn't completely human. Eyes, if he had ever had them, blazed as if their sockets had been filled with fire. Rune had known fear; rational fright, irrational phobias, but it paled in comparison to the raw, unbridled fear that the first hit had elicited from her broken body.

Should she survive, she knew that fear would stay with her forever.

He was growing near now, a hungering threat, eager to please his master. "You should not have run in the first place. Perhaps you've learned your mistake?"

Hazel orbs widened in the realization that her dulled senses masked the sound of Gaunt's approaching footsteps, leaving her an open target with her noisy attempts to grasp at oxygen as if through a straw. Gritting through a cry of pain she threw herself to the right and rolled as a spear split the earth where she had just been, lighting the dark with sparks. Her wounds screamed in protest to the hard ground, but there was nothing to be done but attempt to scramble to her feet and run, pumping more and more blood through her aching heart.

Branches whipped at her face and brambles closed around her bare ankles as she sprinted so fast that it felt as if her very tendons would snap in protest, and the heavy footfalls of the soldier were quick closing in despite his massive form. Rune could sense him closing in, nearly visualize the black armor and raised javelin in her wake, poised to strike as her chest tightened, burned, shattered, threatened to close and leave her crumpled on the Rigelian soil in pieces.

 _'It's over, it's over, it's-..,'_ she felt her mind give way to her will to survive, abandoning the notion of ever being able to merely escape with what injuries she did have. No, she would have to fight like a cornered animal, unburdened by tactic or the fear of death which drove her feet now. To run was to be caught and die, to fight was to be broken and die. At least one held a glimmer of hope, and it was this that caused her to pivot her weight and turn heel, swinging the heavy, rusted axe with such enthusiasm that she could feel no less than two more ribs twist in protest. Eyes closed, hoping to hit home, she unleashed a scream that could have risen the dead, shared between pain and the anticipation that she might-

No, not might. That she was _going to die._

Her swing hit home, momentum carrying the dull blade into the crease of her pursuer's neck with sickening _thunk_ of metal against bone. Force carried her still, cracking the arm on the outside of the swing's arc as velocity came to a sudden and solid halt.

The edge of his javelin had been falling in a strong downward swipe that would have hit her spine had she not turned, instead slicing her face wide almost painlessly at the well groomed edge. She noticed not. It wasn't until a watery groan gurgled past Gaunt's lips and his armored form fell onto her that she realized that she was even still alive and able to feel pain.

 _'We're both dead,'_ she felt her mind's eye confirm to her, numb to the despairing weight of a full suit of armor crushing her legs. A river of blood flowed freely from the throat of her now deceased enemy, dying the remains of her clothing an ominous purple. _'No, he's dead. I'm... I'm alive.'_ She mopped blood from her right eye with a soggy sleeve, blinking in the abysmal darkness.

And yet it was a pyrrhic victory, one that brought with it only the frigid knowledge that she had killed someone in exchange for her own life, a life that meant nothing to anyone. Despite her pain, a cynical smile tugged at her bloody mouth, followed by a breathless spurt of relieved laughter that broke into choked, flooded sobs of racking panic and relief.

"Thank Mila it's over." Rune spoke this aloud, and through her fading haze it seemed so absolutely hilarious that she laughed heartily again, feeling blood rise in her throat and threaten the back of her tongue. Inch by aching inch, she pulled herself from beneath the corpse, feeling the first rumblings of thunder and offerings of rain urge her on, lest she drown on her back like a turkey. Tears made clear tracks through her bloodied face, leaking from her eyes from the sheer realization that she was alive and he was now dead.

Rune managed to raise the arm that she had felt snap, slowly attempting to fold it into a fist to no avail. _'Your axe swinging days are over, my girl,'_ she thought, feeling such sudden regret that it was like a new, white hot bolt of pain directly into her chest. Part of her, a foolish, tired part, wanted to lie back down in the soil, perhaps plant herself there and hope for the best, but the thought of Gaunt- no, the body, she had to tell herself, he was no longer a person, if he even was to be considered one in the first place- resting so close gave her the push she needed to begin her slow journey back home.

Four broken ribs, a punctured lung, countless wounds that for months had teetered on the brink of infection, and eternally damned ligaments in both arms that had not long ago been the pride of her swinging arc were little price to pay in the eyes of Maria. And to what end? For the child she had planned to be rid of to come home with her face forever scarred? An ungrateful child, she had called Rune.

That had wounded her perhaps more than any of her injuries ever could have, to see the look on her step-mother's face when she woke to find her own child unconscious on her doorstep. It hurt because it hadn't been concern or fear, but disappointment reflected in those features so different from her own. She could have told her what happened, could have blamed her, hated her, threatened her, but even after all that time she could only lower her head in shame.

Nightmares had haunted her, sneaking into her waking world with a sly creepiness that gripped her with fear even should she be basking in sunlight in a field of flowers. That witch, that man-... his blood, spilling in such a fine river that it seemed to be a theatre prop. Time paled their damage but didn't stop them, likely wouldn't ever stop them, so long as she still bore the burden of taking a life.

* * *

"So that's where it came from, huh?" Kliff folded one knee over the other and stretched his arms behind his head, nearly and unknowingly almost touching the updo of the old woman at the table behind him. The matronly woman dropped coins on the table and bustled away to begin her day, shooting a spiteful glance over her shoulder. Kliff didn't notice. "I don't know what's harder to believe. Your story, or the fact that you even bothered to tell me. You expect me to believe that you went through all that?"

"I foolishly find it easy to trust you. Besides, I've got the scar and the ring to prove it, haven't I?" Her long fingers fiddled with a ring studded with small diamonds around a Rigelian crest. She hadn't decided yet whether to hawk it off for cash or fling it into the river for a lucky someone to find so that _they_ could hawk it off. Maria had silently tossed it at Rune when she went out that morning. It had supposedly been a placeholder reward, a promise that money would soon be coming Maria's way.

As if Rune wanted some other gristly reminder of what happened.

 _'Perhaps if you hadn't come running back, I could have moved back to the capital and secured a home for us. Do you think of anyone other than yourself?'_ Maria had commented time and time again. Rune wasn't sure if she was too dense to realize that she was going to be killed, or if Maria was perhaps being sarcastic and mocking her survival by saying _us_. Of course, it had been much easier to follow her about chiding her she first came back, but now that Rune had recovered and made a friend in this sassy, silvery-haired village boy, Maria had a hard time catching her to stir up her guilt. She would rise at the crack of dawn with an armful of books and go hunting, or fishing, or whatever else it was that she did to get out of the house. All Maria knew was that she only came home to sleep, eat, and shower, and then would be off out her own window to avoid passing her in the den.

Of course, retelling the event to Kliff, she intentionally left out her step-mother's thirst for nobility. As a matter of fact, mentioning it at all seemed like it would be a quick way to lose her newfound acquaintance. Unfortunately he was a keen one, and it didn't take long for him to begin picking at the details.

"There are still plenty of questions that need answering. First of all, it's unheard of for people from Ram Village to have those kind of connections. And why you, and not some other villager? You're not…" He bit at his cheek, folding his arms across his narrow chest. Now that he really thought about what he was going to say, it sounded extremely rude. "Uh…"

She gave him a wry smile, reading him quite quickly. "I'm not prettier than any other girl in the village, so why would I be sold? Is that what you were going to ask?"

His sigh was one of defeat. "I don't mean it in those exact words. What I mean is that people who are sold to marry nobles as concubines are usually- …Well, they don't look like they've ever done work. They're princesses or nobles of lesser houses, but nobles all the same. With weird eye colors, or magic affinities, or dragon's blood or something."

"I suppose I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps it was a roulette draw for someone in this village to meet an end like that, and I pulled the wrong card," she lied, feeling the burden of guilt begin to settle in her breast.

"Or." He sat upright, folding his hands under his chin. "Maybe the influence of the Duma Faithful is spreading further and faster than anyone could have thought. Or it could be that it's a small group working independently, interrupting the underground selling of concubines. Or maybe, more simply, you are a noble."

Her face vanished behind her cup of tea for a moment as she took a long sip.

"And that's my answer." He stated smartly, a smug grin plastered onto his pale face. She put her cup down with a shaky hand, eyes cast down at the ring on the table.

"It's been difficult enough to try and start over here. I never wanted that lifestyle, and I'm content to try and remain at this one. Please don't say anything that could ostracize me further." Her voice was low and robotic, quite different from her normal accented, sing-song tone. "You are the first person in this village that-…"

He held up his hands and shook his head, silencing her. "Hold on, it's not like I'm going to tell anyone. But what do you think would happen? You think the townsfolk would run you away with torches and pitchforks?"

"...They would look at me with apprehension. I would rather them openly despise me than stare at me with... I'm not quite sure. With words in their eyes." She admitted quietly. He didn't have a snappy retort to that. The better half of his life consisted of people treating him differently, watching him walk with bated breath so that they could whisper to their friends about how thin he was, or how pale he was, or about how little farm work someone of his stature could do. Most of that waned as he got older, but his mother's doting and gossip still kept some of it alive.

"Well, for what it's worth, my mother already dislikes you for giving me that flute thing. I've been squawking on it when she gives me a hard time and it shuts her up pretty quickly." Kliff remarked with what seemed to be almost an effort at actual humor. "Even if you were to become hero of the village and make yourself vastly popular, you would still have one anti-fan in her to keep you humble."

"Humbling indeed." She repeated, discomfort touching her tone.

"Geez. You know, the first few times I saw you, you seemed almost cool, like you had it all together. The more I get to know you, the more I realize you're just gloomy." He wore a smug smirk, searching her face for a rise to indicate that she knew he was joking. When there was only an uncomfortable silence of her staring into her tea, he nearly felt bad. Perhaps his brand of biting humor was a bit too harsh? He tried again, with much less malice in his tone. "Since this is a conversation, there's kind of an unspoken rule that you're supposed to talk back."

She fluttered her eyelashes as if snapped out of a daze and looked him in the eye, fake surprise written on her face. "Oh? My apologies, I stopped listening when you started insulting me. Instead I was daydreaming about your friend. He's a cute one, isn't he? Tobin?" She bit at her cheek to stifle a smile as his face contorted into an offended frown.

"Ugh. You even complimenting Tobin makes it very clear that you haven't _met_ Tobin." He remarked, sounding so stony and sincere that she couldn't help but laugh. He merely continued to level a solid glare in response, idly drawing a finger around the rim of his cup of tea. Well, at least it was clear that she understood his sarcasm. Most often, his friends got angry and couldn't tell the difference. Or there was the case of Alm, who thought that he was always completely serious and took every harsh comment to heart. "Tobin is a walking plague."

"Do you speak so highly of all of your friends?" So recently she felt false, feigning smiles and conversation until finally she had lapsed and shared a half burden, but she was certain now that it had been the right person to share with, as now her smile felt genuine for the first time in a very, very long time.

Kliff seemed relieved that the tension was gone, hitching his trademark sigh. "Uh, of course? I say horrid things about you, too."

"Well _thank goodness._ I would hate to feel excluded."

Seconds, minutes, days, weeks would tick by, inching closer to destiny's eventual call to arms. But in the here and now, Rune felt herself no longer leap at shadows, no longer aching from phantom pain in her lungs at the sight of a soldier dressed in armor. And in time, she supposed, it would be alright to tell at least one person of her shame, and she supposed it might as well be this new and marvelous friend, snarky as he could be.

Time was a fickle creature, however, bringing with it passing the tidings of loss and twisting knots of fate into knots that could never be set straight again.

* * *

 ** _Revised_** ** _: 3/10/2018_**


	4. Self-Esteem and Snow

**_One Star to the Next_**

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 4  
_**

 ** _Second Guessing and Snow_**

* * *

 _"Geez Kliff, you really roasted that guy." Tobin, hands on his knees, leaned over the charred corpse of a cloaked arcanist, grimacing at the miasma of foul smoke rising from the half-human's skin. "I don't know how you sensed him but hot damn! If you hadn't been lookin' out for me..."_

 _"You'd be dead." Kliff said matter-of-factly, dusting off his tome. Tobin, undaunted by his attitude, threw open his arms and crushed the unsuspecting mage in a massive hug, shaking him back and forth almost violently. "Ugh, Tobin, c-come on, man-..." His last breath came out in a desperate puff, clutching for air, but Tobin only released him after Kliff finally proclaimed that he was indeed going to die if he didn't.  
_

 _"I know I slipped up, but I won't let it happen again." The other boy, still reeling from the panic of being snuck up on in what he presumed was the safety of the woods just behind the Deliverance camp, gripped Kliff's shoulders with as much ferocity as he had just hugged him with. He immediately tensed, afraid that he was going to be caught in another deadly embrace.  
_

 _"We can't be on guard all the time, don't beat yourself up. But just what the hell were you doing? It's the dead of night. Thank the gods you don't have a subtle bone in your body, or you'd be toast." Finally annoyed, Kliff batted Tobin's hands away, feeling his exasperation rise as color rose to Tobin's cheeks and he tilted his handsome face to the forest floor. "...Come on, spit it out."_

 _"I overheard Clive and Mathilda. When, uh, when Clive would be gone for months at a time, he would come home to Clair throwing temper tantrums, pissed off that her brother would just abandon her time and time again. And, uh, well... he got to where he would bring her these flowers that supposedly grew somewhere around here..." Sheepishly he admitted his tale, feeling Kliff's judgmental gaze on him the entire time._

 _"You almost died to try and impress a girl that couldn't care less, huh? Real smart, Tobe." Kliff's mouth formed an 'o' of shock as Tobin suddenly and violently shoved him, knocking him off balance and causing him to stumble backwards onto his rear. "Seriously?!"_

 _"So I should just give up, then?! Just because you and everyone else thinks I don't stand a chance, my feelings don't matter? This is WAR. If I die, my feelings go with me! Isn't this time the most important time of our lives to go for what we want?" A vein bulged in Tobin's forehead and Kliff realized, picking himself up despite being still quite stunned from the outburst, that Tobin was dead serious about this. Again, he had a way of thinking profoundly at times, laying out things that should have been obvious but that always seemed to go unspoken._

 _"I saved your life. Don't you think it's a little rude to be knocking me on my ass?"_

 _The brunet's features softened, his clench fists loosening by his sides. "I'm... I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I guess I just start thinking about Clive, and Alm, and even Fernand... they have something that I lack. I don't think I'll ever find whatever it is in myself, but I at least wanted to bear my heart and not die with regrets."_

 _"You're really just asking to get hurt, huh? Suddenly we're at war and NOW you decide to make yourself more vulnerable." The mage brushed dead leaves from his clothing, eyeing the arcanist's body from the corner of his eye. Had he really nearly lost Tobin? He both admired his stupidity and honestly, and the idea of that no longer being with him was core shaking. Closing his eyes, he hitched a sigh and began picking his way past his friend towards the dark canopy of trees, careful not to get snagged in the undergrowth. "Let's just go."_

 _"Uh, Kliff?" Tobin raised an eyebrow. "Camp is thataway?" A thumb jutted over his shoulder, the opposite direction that he was heading._

 _"If we hurry up, we can find those flowers and be back before your luck springs another ambush. What did they look like?"_

 _"A-actually, maybe we should just forget about it. I think I've caused enough trouble for you, don't you think? Hah..."_

 _Kliff let out a groan, dropping a hand to his hip. "You went through all that and don't even want anything to show for it? Fine. I'll find 'em and give 'em to Clair myself." That was all it took for Tobin to scramble to his side, shoving his shoulder in protest. "...Ouch."_

 _"Shut up! You don't even LIKE Clair!"_

 _"Well, I don't DISlike Clair." He taunted, knowing full well that he was immediately sticking needles under Tobin's skin with his tone alone. It truly was wonderfully easy to both goad and inspire him, and again Kliff felt gooseflesh erupt on his arms and the back of his neck at the thought that if he hadn't heard such a scuffle, had been just a moment too late, he might never know that feeling again. this idiot was going to be the death of him, for sure.  
_

 _"You're such a jerk..." Tobin felt himself laugh, dissuaded, as he shoved past Kliff's smugly grinning face and into the woods. "Fine then, come on. Let's pick all of 'em we can find! I'm gonna embarrass myself in front of the love of my life!"_

* * *

Rune leered at the reflection in her hand mirror, gripping a tube of wine colored lipstick in two fingers just inches from her mouth, her brow knitted as she studied her face. With her features wind-beaten and reddened by the wintry cold, her pale scar seemed to encompass her entire face, white against chilly, darker skin. Snow fell around the awning which she sat under, watching horses and carriages stroll by with those who were to leave Ram Village and make a living in the slightly warmer nearby towns. The white silenced almost everything, bringing with it new sounds that were muffled and soft and enjoyable.

Footfalls crunched through the snow towards her, belonging to a friend whom she'd become familiar enough with to recognize the very sound of his approach. Not wanting to be caught admiring herself (realistically, being caught in her own marred features would only inspire others to notice), she snapped the mirror shut and tucked it away.

Kliff's boots came to a halt a few paces away and he shifted two heavy, hard-backed books from under one arm to the other, having to duck his head to not bop it against the overhang. It seemed he needed very little time to accomplish an impressive amount of growing, enough to have gone from the same height as Rune to suddenly where his chin was at her nose when standing face to face. "Red, huh? Trying to impress someone?"

An ironic statement, seeing as she felt as if she was becoming far less impressive as he grew more and more handsome so quickly. There came a day a week ago where she had gasped at seeing her own face first thing in the morning, devoid of makeup and unbrushed and realized she looked so very, very ugly to her own eyes.

"Is it so wrong for a woman to want to feel pretty?" She scoffed not without a dramatic flair, being facetious of course. This caused Kliff to hitch a sigh and shrug, the wiles of womankind lost to someone who could easily wake up good looking. If she were an envious soul, it would enrage her how effortless he made it seem.

"You're prettier with leaves and twigs sticking out of your hair and dirt smudged on your face. Or rather, maybe that's just how I'm used to seeing you. Swinging an axe around, getting muddy fingerprints all in my books..." His good-natured teasing trailed off as he sat down beside her, brushing snowflakes out of his bangs. "Pissing off woodland critters, tearing down trees..."

This seemed to touch a nerve with her, he noticed, seeing as her hands clenched at her thighs, balling into fists. With her face reddened further and her eyes cast downwards, she almost mumbled at him. "...I really come across as that unpolished, huh?"

A muscle in his cheek jumped in annoyance at her comment, not liking her submissive tone. "Gods, since when does it matter, anyways? And since when have you ever cared?" He nearly snapped, folding his arms over his chest.

"I-I don't know, I-I just-..." Idly she touched her the inner elbow of her right arm, finding that it was suddenly difficult to even pull in a breath to argue her case.

"I've _never_ heard you stutter before. Come on, just be out with it." He leaned forward to glare at her from beneath his messy fringe, eyes narrowed to slits.

Her throat squeezed and her eyes burned, but the very idea of being seen crying was mortifying. She wiped the lipstick from her mouth on her sleeve, leaving a bloodlike stain. "It's been months, Kliff. I still can't swing a weapon without feeling like I'm going to break. I can't even do fieldwork without teetering off my feet from shortness of breath. Gods forbid I try to travel without feeling as if-..." She shook her head briefly, feeling her voice quiver. "...I just thought that after all this time, perhaps things would be like they were before. I wake up every day praying that I feel my strength come back to me, but for naught. It feels like trying to look nice might be the only thing keeping me from a constant self-loathing. If I were-..."

He pondered this for a long while, tugging at a lock of his hair without even realizing he was doing so. He wasn't exactly what one would call an empathetic soul, but he was stricken with the most unusual feeling that he was talking to a stranger. Realizing how different Rune had become since she had told him of her treacherous adventure was upsetting and almost lonely feeling. And she wasn't wrong; he had seen it as well. She had truly become weaker, and he felt that he made a point to silently help or look the other way. Was it pity? If she thought that he was pitying her, it was likely that she'd never show her face again.

If he were worried, which he deeply was, not a bit of it showed in his voice. "So what if you can't fight the way you want? You can still fight. I'll just teach you magic." Simple as you please. An effortless solution, from the way in which he said it, though it seemed almost absurd.

Her hazel eyes widened as an eyebrow raised. "Magic? Since when can you use magic? And besides that, not everyone has the ability to-..."

"So first you're second-guessing yourself and now you're second-guessing me?" He cut her off, feeling himself slowly going mad at the way she was fidgeting. With her hair, with her sleeve, with the hem of her shirt. "I've learned a few things, enough to teach you, anyways. It won't be easy, sure, but I don't..." He started to trail off, glancing towards the white of the snowy market. "...I don't like this. It's so different now."

"It's not anyone's fault."

"It's your _mother's_ fault." Finally annoyed enough to lash out, he fiercely gripped her fidgeting arm and deposited her hand in her lap, causing her to blink wildly.

"Sorry...?"

He sucked in a deep breath and almost unleashed a half-sigh, half-groan of anger, though he exhibited enough willpower to control that particularly rude gesture. "Consider my offer an intervention. I'd be really disappointed to find out that you're the kind of person that lets someone else break you. I looked up to you, don't make me regret admitting that. It'd have made such a waste of all that time."

She seemed stunned by his scolding, feeling her face rise with color. It was certainly the last thing she expected to hear from someone so stony and independent, and admittedly the remedy seemed to take effect. "You looked up to me?"

"Well, you were much taller than me," Kliff snarked, standing to his feet before he embarrassed himself further. That was enough laid bare, an admission that he believed was simply too much for his pride to part with. Hitching a sigh, he fiddled with his scarf in preparation for the bite of the wind. "Believe it or not, when you've got everything together, you can come off as kind of cool."

"You really do speak the first thing on your mind, don't you?" This came off as an accusation, but realistically she appreciated this characteristic. It was something she needed to hear, knowing that there was blame to be pinned before she could ever find it within herself to accept it and move on. Her body wouldn't suddenly be at a soldier's strength for it, and it wouldn't take back nor stop the endless loop of her taking another's life that crept into her good moods, dashing them with an effortless frost. She knew what she felt, what burdened her, and that she should move forward, but day after day of refusing to accept that there was a party at fault was destroying her resolve, her confidence. She truly had become a husk of the Rune that she had been only a few months ago. Even within herself, she felt frustrated at how it was no longer easy to smile.

But that was enough of that. It felt strange to be battered about and into shape by the words of a boy, especially a boy who met the very notion of small talk with a cold shoulder and his nose in a book. Clearly, pep talking wasn't his forte, and yet he was quite effective. Light of heart, Rune adopted her over-the-top posh dialect, flipping her hair back from her forehead with flourish. "My, my. If Sir Kliff thinks I'm cool, then I'm wasting my time trying to impress anyone else. Impart upon me your wisdom."

Hearing her sense of humor had at least given an attempt to break through her stresses made him smile. "You better get full marks, or you're out of my class." His tone was dripping with arrogance, though admittedly it took utmost focus to even conjure fire. Still, it gave him plenty of opportunity to train on his own with someone who knew magical tomes inside and out. Perhaps that was a small bit selfish, but it also counted as helping a friend, which certainly outweighed any selfishness. Right? Probably. Besides, he was sure Rune wasn't fool enough to think he was simply being overtly kind for nothing in return.

"I hope you don't think that I'm going to call you Master Kliff." She flexed her hand, feeling stiffness in her elbow and fingers from the cold. A little sore, but for the most part, workable. Certainly workable.

"For now, no. ...But if you discover a knack for roasting folks, you may owe me a liiiiittle more respect." He turned his eyes towards the sky, blinking out the cold snowflakes that touched his lashes. A completely gray day, but that was fine. There was plenty of time left in the day. And if there wasn't, there was tomorrow, and something to look forward to within it.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Oh Rune, get it together, girl. You're starting to sound as existential as Tobin. ...For the record, archer Kliff served my team WAY better than mage Kliff, ahahahah-. But I liked Luthier's mention that mages hear the voices of the spirits, and I feel like that could become quite a fun plot point eventually. Also, I drew a couple of concepts of Rune, so if you'd like to see them, simply ask and I'll give you a link to it on my deviantart via PM ( ffnet seems to HATE link sharing, haha).  
_**

 _ **Any reviews, follows, thoughts, comments, etc., are always welcome! I respond to everything, o' course. Since I tend to write via winging it ( I prefer to say aimlessly flying with a slightly off GPS, AHEM), if anyone has anything in particular they'd like to offer in terms of ideas, other character interactions, etc, I'd be glad to consider them. I'm ITCHING to write something involving Alm, but he's... he's Alm. He's busy. Also I'm going to be totally honest, I felt bad for Tobin's hardship in the beginning. Unrequited love is just so cruel, and at the same time, I totally enjoy writing it. suffer, dear Tobin.**_


	5. Autographs and Failed Fires

**_One Star to the Next_**

* * *

 **Ch. 5  
**

 **Autographs and Failed Fires**

* * *

 _"Mathilda." Kliff called out to the sewing warrior, a hand placed on his hip as he eyed the cross stitch pattern spread across her lap. ...What the hell was she designing? A five legged cat or a face locked into a scream of agony was his best guess._

 _"Y-yes?" The valkyrie seemed startled out of her task, regarding him with some surprise. "My, my! It's the quiet one. To what do I owe this conversation?" It was quite unusual for the mage to speak with... well, nearly anyone, actually. Mathilda likened herself to a wise judge of character and deemed him to be tactical beyond his years, if not a bit frightening in his cynicism, but not a social butterfly. She got the feeling that he was actually enjoying war, embracing it where two of the other soldiers from his group, Faye and Tobin, seemed to be struggling with the morality of it all. These two she had chosen to personally keep an eye on, but this one... this one she didn't quite understand.  
_

 _"I need your autograph." His tone was light and casual as he held up a few sheets of parchment and a feathered pen. Chocolate eyes blinked at it, and then back up at him to see if he were joking._

 _"Is this some form of jest? We fight side by side every day. Surely you don't need a keepsake. Though I can't say I know you well enough to think you won't do something obscene with it..." She trailed off, returning to her stitching with her teeth set into her bottom lip. "I don't approve of the japes of your friends, to say the least. I've been meaning to scold that foul Gray boy for a while now, I just haven't gotten around to doing so."_

 _This made his mouth curve up into a sloppy half smile; oh yes, that was certainly a sentiment that he understood. He didn't even mind that he was being lumped into the pot with the likes of Gray or Tobin."No obscenities here, I have a friend who might just die of happiness if she knew that I was actually traveling with, uh, Lady Mathilda the Great." He instantly felt embarrassed for the flattery, having to remind himself that it wasn't for him to keep him from rolling his eyes._

 _At this Mathilda sat aside her sewing work, placing a hand over her sizable chest as she positively beamed. It seemed that was all it took to turn a deadly force into a pleasant daisy. "Oh, how sweet! A gift for your lover?"_

 _Was she_ trying _to fluster him? "Hah. Compared to her feelings for you, nobody else would ever have a chance." He held the paper up in his hands, drawing her attention back to it. "This is embarrassing enough as it is, could you just-..."_

 _"Yes, of course!" Still glowing, Mathilda neatly scrawled her name in writing as proper as calligraphy, brushing the feather against her lips as she pondered what to add. "Oh, what should I say..."_

 _"Something cheesy. 'My dearest fan, I have heard of your affections from the impeccably classy Kliff and have decided to abandon my vows to Clive. Please, wait for me,' or something like that." He mocked her superfluous dialect with stunning accuracy, though his haughty tone was more akin to Clair. Still, she laughed.  
_

 _"How about... 'the impeccably classy Kliff has decided to abandon you and exchange vows with Clive?' " Mathilda retorted quickly, savagery touching her words like venom despite the fact that the gentle smile remained on her face. She scribbled something and folded it neatly, passing it back to him before he could think of a comeback for her sass. "Though I am not loathe to admit that hearing I've inspired strength in another woman has snapped me out of a most unpleasant fog. What wonderful timing. Perhaps I should stitch her a gift?" She held up what she was working on, not without a touch of pride to her voice._

 _Kliff smiled, shaking his head at the very image of his friend's reaction to getting something like that, as silly and poorly sewn as it was. "I think she would die on the spot."  
_

* * *

396 V.C.

"It seems Lord Owain's palette doesn't include those of his own caliber. I've heard the most wild rumors about him taking the hand of a lesser noble, one even lower than our own house, at that!"

"Oh, Maria, you don't think... what will become of our daughters? It's almost unheard of for a noble of his standing to take a wife at his own behest. What kind of tactical advantage could that girl's house offer someone of his stature?"

Rune tugged the twine of her boots tighter, knotting them as she listened to her step-mother gossiping away with a neighbor, her ear piqued to the tone of the conversation. As usual, the two were gossiping over lordlings and ladies as if their lives were a drama for the peoples' entertainment.

"He is simply foolish enough to believe that he can marry who he wishes. I'm sure you realize that he's yet young; he will need his attention pointed for him, that's all. Besides... his new betrothed is of less nobility than even I. I'm quite sure my husband could set things right for the proper amount of gold. Desaix's benevolence could easily take care of such a nuisance as a poor house such as hers."

This comment made Rune's stomach churn, though her young ears were not surprised by it. Nobles tossing gold in the pot to decide who would marry and who would divorce, staying the hand of an executioner to save a thief or arresting innocent men for the comedy of it. The hobbies of the rich were sick, twisted pastimes.

"I think it's rather sweet." Rune finally spoke up as she made her presence known, dusting her hands with chalk before pulling on her worn gauntlets. "She seems to be genuinely kind. And more beautiful than most, for sure. So what of her nobility?"

Her step-mother's friend regarded her training gear with an air of disgust, tilting her nose up at the unsightly outfit as if it personally offended her. "Rundeltia, you ignorant child. Are you claiming to have _met_ Lady Lisbeth?"

"Well..." Rune squirmed under the woman's gaze, glancing towards Maria in the hopes that she would call off her friend. "Of course I haven't."

"Because you've been turning your body square and your hands calloused in training. If you had any feminine sense about you, you would have learned by now that women are snakes, all of them. The most angelic faces belong to the muck and mire, women who will throw their petticoats over their heads for the flip of a coin or simply the pleasure of it."

Rune bit at her cheek as her cheeks flushed with color. "What about your daughters, then?" She asked meekly. Maria's eyes cut up to her face with a threatening glare, one that Rune's own hazel ones danced away from. That hateful look made her nerve grow. Pushing her curls back over her shoulder, Rune only grew all the more bold. "And what of you? I've heard that you do far more than toss up your skirt when the Chancellor visits the border."

"Rundeltia!"

"Is that for coin or just for pleasure?"

"Enough of your tongue!" Voice wavering in fear and rage, Maria slammed a hand onto the table, causing Rune to jump a step back, wide eyed. Maria's friend had paled, her lips parted though no words came out.

"Where did you hear such a thing...?" She whispered, her voice dripping with venom.

"That's enough. Child, leave. Now." Maria commanded, rising to her feet to scoop up the two teacups on the table. "She heard no such thing, it's the workings of an active- and stupid- imagination. She's a Rigelian brute, and a dumb one at that. Pay her no mind."

Rune's hands balled into fists so tight that it hurt her palms as she sucked in a breath. Gods, it _hurt_ to keep her mouth shut in that very moment, but somehow she managed. Without another word she grabbed her training gear and slipped out the door, having no idea what kind of mess she had left in her wake.

* * *

Exhausted, sweat soaking into the cloth beneath the hard leather of her armor, Rune finally made it up the stairs to her home, taking a sweet moment to appreciate the feeling of twilight. The minute she walked back inside, the pressure would be back on, and it was mighty likely that her step-mother's anger would still be smouldering and oppressive, warranting another apology or perhaps for Rune to pick up a few extra chores or gold to appease her. These things she didn't mind, but the constant air of words unspoken drove her mad, never knowing if she was walking on eggshells or treading on broken glass.

The only time she could speak freely seemed to be with her axe, be it training with the others, manning a post, or even dealing with the occasional scuffle with a thief. It was hard work for little pay and high risk, not to mention that her rank made her a faceless nobody amongst her talented peers, but there were no gray areas, no stilted, fake feelings. And not to mention, on the supremely rare occasion, even the soldiers of her rank were treated with a visit from Lady Mathilda, a well-renowned knight whose exploits on the battlefield were legendary even at her young age. It was no wonder that so many enlisted simply in the hopes of being even scolded by her.

On one of her first days of training, Rune was one of the hundreds who were greeted with a speech about hardship, physical agony, and the weight of their jobs, grunt or not. Rune, chubby at the time and still unable to even hold a heavy two handed weapon, had caught her feet across one another and fallen flat on her face in the mud, only to have Lady Mathilda boom "PICK. UP. YOUR. FEET!" in her ear.

...It had been utterly and truly awesome. Rune never dragged her feet again.

The teen briefly wondered what her mother would say if she requested Mathilda's hand in marriage, and laughed out loud at the visualization of Maria's face twisting into horror and shock upon hearing that her daughter did such a thing. Surely Mathilda would smite her, and her reputation would be destroyed upon a simple joke, but her mind took respite in these tacky fantasies.

Such simple thoughts fogged her mind as she pushed open her front door on a night like any other, feeling the familiar scent of cinnamon and something oily, perhaps shoe polish or blade grease, hit her nose first. "I'm home," she called timidly, wondering if perhaps the silence was a sign that Maria was still upset. Rounding the foyer, she found her parents sitting across from one another at the tea-table, her father's large hands encompassing her mother's own, smaller ones as Maria's head remained bowed. A shuddering sigh stopped Rune in her tracks; Maria was crying.

"Father?" Rune's eyes bulged, looking to him for answers. He merely tilted his head at the empty chair in front of him, ushering her to sit. She didn't object, dropping into the seat and leaning towards her mother, tentatively reaching out to touch her back. "What's wrong? What's going on?!"

Maria lashed out with a screech, shying away from Rune's touch as if she was inflicted with a deadly disease. " _You_ are what's wrong!"

Bewildered, Rune looked once again to her father for answers, and with resignation he spoke in his low, rumbling voice.

"There has been word that our family is not loyal to Chancellor Desaix. Accusations of an affair that might tarnish the Chancellor's good name. This is effectively treason for one who works in such close quarters with Desaix himself. I've asked that my family be pardoned-..." He fell silent as his wife spoke up, interrupting him.

"It's what you said before, in front of a gossiping rat no less! I knew there was nothing about that woman that could be trusted and still I let her sit in my own house, drink at MY table!" Maria was hysterical, scorning the very friend that she had been chittering away with that very morning. "You with your disgusting, untamed mouth! What did I tell you, Oskar? That brat would drive us to ruin!"

Rune, stunned, couldn't even begin to protest. Could one simple comment, one throwaway outburst of a young girl, have so much weight?

"These things tend to have a way of growing in proportion. Furthermore, investigations are to be made into our family to see where our loyalties lie. I believe-..." Again he was interrupted, but this time with Rune's mother pulling away and storming out of the room in a flurry of skirts. Hesitantly he continued, his voice lower than before. "...I believe we are simply to be made an example of, Rune. Subdue the flapping lips to inflict fear into those who consider doing the same. Do not take it upon yourself, the blame or the idea that it is your fault. With my plea, I've arranged for the two of you to be moved elsewhere. I shall stay behind and prove my loyalty by whatever means necessary."

This raised instant red flags, causing her heart to throb painfully. "Father, I only said-... there is no way that my words could lead to- T-they can't do that!"

"This is a delicate, complex matter." He forced a smile, one that Rune would be forever haunted by, a polite and apologetic smile, wrinkles touching the corners of his eyes. "You are not to blame for the punishment, but perhaps you can make up for your wagging tongue by listening to your father and doing what you're told. Take your mother, and take care of her. I fear she may not make it long knowing that she will be as a commoner from now on."

She knew that he was making a joke, an feeble attempt to make her smile and perhaps make himself feel better, but it was spent on a useless recipient. Never before had such a weight been dropped onto her, knowing that her family was losing everything, everything, at her behest. One single day, less than 24 hours, and everything had suddenly shifted with such magnitude. "Father, I don't know how to begin to apologize for this..."

"Worry not. Truthfully, it has nothing to do with what you said in the least. A wounded dog will cry the loudest, and there are many pockets hungry for my position."

She felt as she did when she was but a toddler, jumping at shadows in her room and running into her father's arms for protection. There were never monsters to be found, simply her wild imagination, and she knew that. Yet still he remained patient with her, always making time, always chasing away her fears as her mother scolded him for coddling her. Encouraging her worldliness, her trouble-making, her desire to be a soldier, her need to speak out. Now it was here again, a father protecting his only child with patience and virtue and wisdom, patching up what she had torn. And certainly she had torn more than before, sliced through the fabric of their family with an ill-cutting blade that shredded what had been sewn together so many times.

And still feeling childish, she opened her mouth to ask him to play her a song as he always did when her nights were filled with fear and worry, only to hear a heavy knock on the door and the sound of hoof-beats.

"I thought I had until morning..." He mumbled, speaking as if he were annoying with a market order and not facing down his arrest and possible execution. His eyes, hazel, tired, and kind, landed on her as he ruffled her already-messy curls. "Never you mind. It's best that you get on upstairs and stay quiet, Rune." And still he remained patient, unflappable. "Take care of your step-mother, my dear. All will be fine, I swear to it."

* * *

Kliff gave the hard-packed snowball in his pale fist one more stare of appreciation before he whipped his right arm back and threw it full force at the side of Rune's head, feeling a bit pained as he watched it go. That truly was the most dense, spherical snowball he had made in his entire life, and there was something bitter about knowing that it would explode upon hitting a distracted woman in the face. She wouldn't even be able to appreciate it fully, and that, too, was a shame.

Of course, all of that disappointment shattered when it smacked her clear in the temple, causing her to let out a scream of surprise and jump to her feet. He erupted into loud laughter that was quite out of his character, sniffing and coughing to try and quell it immediately, which only resulted in nasty hiccups from swallowing air. Composure regained, he trotted over to her with icy tears pricking his eyes, covering his mouth in a not so subtle attempt to keep from grinning like an idiot.

Rune appraised him with naught but an exhausted sigh, one that he felt was oddly similar to his own. So THAT was what it sounded like. "That's the happiest I've ever seen you, Kliff. ...You're a sadist." Her defeated tone struck him as funny all over again, though he had managed to take back control over his outburst. The massive red mark on the side of her face from snowball impact was making that increasingly difficult.

"Perfect marks, I'd say. If you work on slinging spells as accurate as I sling snowballs... that's a force to be reckoned with. Consider that revenge for my scarf."

Her aptitude of magic was off to a poor start, and Kliff had been working on finding the words to tell her that she would never be able to don the moniker of 'mage.' Every time he started to tell her that it was time to hang it up, determination would flash in his eyes. And who was he to take it away?

A boy who was actually talented at it, that's who. So far all she had accomplished was burning her books, burning his clothing, and burning her own hands.

"The more I practice magic, the more I want to get better at anything besides magic." She laughed, picking slush out of the folds of her scarf. "All those years of reading and studying up and learning my history didn't prove to give me the edge I so expected. Perhaps that was arrogant of me, to think hard work alone makes one the same as a gifted mage."

"You have to be close to giving it up, Rune..." He trailed off, not attempting to hide the annoyance in his tone. "Can't we just... talk? I've been reading this new book and I think you'd really like it. It's about this rose bush and this bird-..."

"-And the bird loves a prince, and so she presses her breast to a rose thorn and sings until she dies to make the perfect rose. The prince tries to woo a princess with the bouquet, but she would rather have gold. And when the prince goes back to tell the robin that her gift was useless, he finds that she died to make the roses red for him." Rune blurted. Her face softened as she let out a sigh. "I've read it a thousand times. I lent that to you, Kliff."

"Well, _fine._ " He scratched at the back of his neck, letting out a huff. "Well, can we at least do something that isn't outside?"

"I like the cold. Wouldn't you rather fish than be cooped up inside? You can read at bedtime when the world is too dark to do anything else. While there's daylight, we should have fun."

"But that _is_ fun."

"We fish until someone catches something. If you catch something first, we go inside. If I catch something first, we stay out."

"The only thing either of us are going to catch is a cold." He grumbled.

"So stay behind then, you don't have to go with me," she said haughtily, turning on her heel. A small smile crept up on her face as he bounced in step beside her, grumbling the entire way.

* * *

 _A/N: OKAY HERE WE GO. I hope nobody has any issues with the slow pace of things, and though I can promise it will pick up quite soon, I should also warn my beloved readers that I'm not going to force anything or toss in anything that I feel is rushed or unready. I like detail, I like development, and I love slow burn. Fleshing out characters is my favorite part of writing. But for those of you who are a little more impatient, there will be some battles very, very soon. :D  
_

 _I also wanted to personally thank EVMeatdrummer98 for the reviews! I love, love, LOVE feedback, and at their request, I will certainly be having some Alm and Kliff interaction in the near future, which does my heart good to know that someone else wants to read that in particular because I've been chomping at the bit to find some excuse to let those two interact. Reviews help me improve and give me inspiration to keep going, thanks so much!_


	6. Eternity and Bloodstains

_**One Star to the Next**_

* * *

 **Chapter 6  
**

 **Eternity and Bloodstains**

* * *

"One last push and Slayde will be finished. No doubt Desaix will flee at seeing his stronghold fold in, it's best we keep a wide berth of him and his retainers. If what Clive says is true, than there's no way of getting through that dragon hide armor of his anyways." Lukas looked back to Clive for confirmation, the blonde releasing a pained "aye" in response. "S-sir Clive, you're wounds... Stay back from the frontlines nearby Silque and let Forsyth and I keep you safe."

"We can't afford to have any hanging back, not with Clive out of commission! If we all go after Desaix as one, I have no doubt that we can take him out!" Alm fiercely interrupted, shaken by the way Clive had been so quickly shut down by a viciously quick paladin with a ridersbane. It had only taken one strong hit to crack the front leg of Clive's beloved mount, and in a twisted irony his own leg had been crushed under the beast's fall. Picking off the first wave had been manageable on broken foot and with the others for backup, but putting down Avel had been a complete drop in morale for the man, understandably.

"Alm!" Faye's shout caught the attention of both frantic hero and the collected Lukas; it was quite rare for Faye to speak up when the nobles were talking. With her mud-drenched tunic and face flecked with blood and dirt, the blonde was quite a sight to behold. Her closed fists seemed to be trembling, though from cold or with passion, it was impossible to tell. "You have to do as Lukas says. You're upset and I understand that, but you can't be reckless! If we lose you, this battle is for nothing!" Blazing brown eyes brimmed with tears that she quickly dashed away. "So please... let's be rational about this!"

Alm sucked in a breath of icy air, letting his panic subside in a watery sigh. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking..." Apologetic eyes turned back up to Lukas, who regarded Faye with a thankful look that was akin to adoration.

Gray cleared his throat, stepping forward and clapping a heavy hand to Alm's shoulder."Yeah, well, as important as Alm is, I'm not too keen on losing my life either, farm boy or not. So let's do this right and do this safe, how 'bout it?"

"Of course." Alm bobbed his head compliantly, stealing at glance at Clive. His leg seemed to be twisted at an impossible angle and he seemed clearly out of it, flashing between pain and vacancy behind his dark eyes. This seemed to steel the boy's resolve. "Alright, we've got this."

* * *

Kliff stumbled backwards as the lancer making his charge met a blistering end at his feet, their body twitching and convulsing though they were dead long before they hit the ground. The mage managed to catch his balance and find a moment to rip his glove off to see the skin of his right hand horribly blistered, cracked and gnarled in gruesome reds, purples, blacks. The sheer pain of conjuring fire spells one after the next had taken quite a toll on him, and though switching to thunder proved to temporarily ease this by numbing his nerves into deadened knots, he knew he was at his limit.

He could feel ever fiber of his being shy away from the tome in his hands, chilling and overwhelming him with disgust and dizziness. Of course, with all of his research he knew quite well the effects of magical fatigue, but had been a little overconfident in his own abilities, disregarding the fact that he was using his own flesh to strike down his enemies. _Alm's_ enemies. He was ashamed to admit it but he was at his limit, completely unable to cast another spell. Now, if he could only get back to the flanks, the others could tidy up the wounded, burned, and paralyzed enemies that he'd left in his fine wake, and perhaps this battle could be ended with few casualties.

From one blink to the next, the image he had last seen- his own hands, of course, scarred as they now were- had been replaced by the earth at his feet as his face collided with the ground. As if in slow motion, he realized that he couldn't move, that the egg-shaped ocarina tucked under his shirt had folded in and cracked on impact, and that the pain at his side was the fiercest anguish he had ever experienced; more than he could imagine. The soldier started to instinctually roll over to his back, tried to at least, and could only cry out in savage pain as his body protested. "Why can't-..." he started to speak, tried his damnest, but his throat protested and threatened to drown him with a mouthful of his own blood, blood that was flowing far too freely over his tongue to simply be an injury from his fall.

"They're falling back! Victory is ours, in the name of Zofia!" He heard Alm shout, followed by a wavelike cheer that lapped at his ears gently like waves, fading and then strong. Again he tried to move, this time managing to curl up on his side as his fingers moved nearly unconsciously to the center of his agony. They closed around the double edged blade of a spear, palms splitting open easily at the weapon that impaled his side, though through stormy waves of agony he barely felt such a thing.

Amidst his trauma, his panic, the feeling of his heart throbbing far too quickly and his lungs trying far too hard to grasp at oxygen for his exsanguinated form, was a feeling of acceptance that would have surprised him had he been aware of it. _'Better to be impaled in a big battle than picked off in some pointless skirmish, huh Kliff?'_ Faintly he could hear Alm's voice calling his name, softly in shock and then a wailing, though he was unable to respond. _'But gods, did I have to make such a mess for them to clean up?'_ Staining the soul with his sacrifice would certainly make for a good story to add to history's pages.

By the time Alm reached him and collapsed over him, Kliff's pain had subsided into a dull roar, one that was nearly comforting in its consistency. It wasn't until the javelin was forcefully yanked out of his body and he was pulled upright by his friend that he really even realized the extent of his suffering. Another scream threatened to boil over, though all he produced was a pathetic, windless choke that could have been likened to a sob. He desperately wanted to tell Alm to leave him where he was, to let him go, that it would be so much easier than the agony, and yet he couldn't protest.

How close had he been to blacking out or bleeding out, he wondered? Having tasted whatever was coaxing him out of his pain, be it the end or just a way of shutting down, he had acquired a once in a lifetime addiction to it, longing for that solace as opposed to what was to come, the horror of fringing between life and death in the futile hopes of recovery.

* * *

Alm hesitated at the entrance to the medical tent, caught off guard by how _white_ everything was. It seemed both sacred and profane all at once, standing out in stark contrast against the tents that housed the dead awaiting a carriage to be taken back to their families. Thankfully, at least for today, he was visiting the side of the living.

"Kliff? It's Alm." Arbitrarily he knocked on the tent flap before sticking his head in, feeling color drain from his face. He was looking at a corpse, no mistaking it. Kliff's skin was nearly as white as the tent that protected him from the rainstorm that had swept across the naze of the battlefield. Seeing him laid so bare, hands wrapped in bandages to his elbows laid neatly over a sheet that reached up to his ribs, was off-putting and in a way, horrifying. Finally, his eyes captured a slow rise and fall of Kliff's chest and Alm's panic took a backseat to his concern. A sigh that was half laugh, half sob passed his lips as he moved to the seat by the bed.

Sheepishly, hoping that he didn't get in trouble with the nurses, Alm leaned over as carefully as possible and held his ear against Kliff's breast, ascertaining that there was indeed a steady albeit dull pulse. This seemed to put him at ease well enough, though what was to come next...

 _"You should go ahead and say what you need to say."_ Silque had warned him softly, meaning exactly what Alm feared it meant. It was likely that there was going to be a casualty from that battle, the most bitter victory that he had claimed.

"Kliff, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm sorry." Alm tried to speak evenly, but in mere seconds his voice had returned to a whimpering whisper, one that quivered as a dull ache tightened his throat. "Every bit of this is my fault. I know I can't take it back, but if you die and don't ever know how much you mean to me... I don't think I can live with that. I got in over my head with all of this, I should have... If I-..." The tears that had clouded his vision finally began to fall freely, dappling the bandages about the other soldier's tattered form.

"Remember that first time Slayde came into the village? Even back then, you were caught up in my mess. I don't think I've ever... not once heard you complain about it, about all that you go through for my sake. As a matter of fact, had you not been there every step of the way, goading me on and taunting me into standing up for myself..." a fond smile touched his lips, yet didn't reach his eyes. "...You've always been at my back. The one time it's necessary to do the same for you, I fail tremendously."

Alm sat upright and mopped at his face with his sleeve, feeling a bitter laugh pass through his lips. "And I know exactly what you're thinking. 'Well, I expected you to fail.'" He could hear it clearly, visualize the infamous head tilt and exasperated sigh as if it were happening right in front of him. Unfortunately, wishing such thoughts to be true had no impact on reality. And it was that reality that crushed him again, knowing that he would never again hear that ever-so-clever snark or see the his friend again, hale and hearty and whole, a boy who had been just on the fringe of his vision since before Alm could remember. Picturing life without him, it was gut-wrenching, soul-rending.

"I can't keep going without you..."

He wasn't sure for how long he slept at Kliff's bedside; all he could remember was weeping until there were no tears left, and then finding them once more. When he finally did stir, blinking through swollen eyes, the bed he had rested his tired head upon was empty, dark ruby droplets of blood staining the sheets where Kliff had been.

* * *

 _"Do you believe in the afterlife?" Kliff asked with little initiation, flinging a flat stone into the gurgling river and watching with minor fascination as it sank into the dark water. Rune remained firmly perched higher on the sloping bank slightly higher than he was, protesting that water at night terrified her. He had teased her, pointing out that it was the same water that was there during the day, but she profusely refused to get closer._

 _At this most peculiar but very Kliff-like question, she leaned forward, arms laced under her bent knees. "How do you know magic and not know if the afterlife is real or not?"_

 _"It's not that I don't know, it's that... well, I mean, you know. I just wanted to hear your opinion. Do you think good people get special treatment and bad people are sent to the underworld, or are all spirits treated the same way?" His hands fiddled around in the grass until he found another rock, throwing it and keeping an ear out for the satisfactory sound of it hitting the surface._

 _"It's hard to determine good or bad, right? Those who follow Duma believe they do so for the good of their people and their god, whereas servants of Mila believe they do good by their deeds and that Duma faithful are bad. If there's one big, shared afterlife, how does that work with so many gods? Does each one have their own astral party, cut off from the others? Or is there one god that stands above the dragons?"_

 _"I guess that's a fair point. But what do you really think?" Stretching, he rolled over in the grass with his chin propped up on his elbows, scrutinizing her but seeking what insight she had to offer like a mesmerized child._

 _"Hm..." She turned over her ocarina in her hands, fiddling with the wooden holes as she considered it. "My father always told me that kings became as stars, so they can keep a watchful eye on their land. Since all of the stars are as sacred as the next, it's quite humbling to think that in the end, men and gods are all but equals to each other. As for the rest of us common folk... I really can't say. I'd have to look into a little more, though there's comfort in following your parents' beliefs, isn't there?"_

 _"I suppose there is. So if you have no answer for the majority of the world, what would you want to happen when you die?"_

 _"There's steam coming out of your ears, Kliff. Perhaps that's enough theological talk for one evening," she protested, picking flecks of grass from her pale curls. Her hair had gotten quite long, so long in fact that putting it up gave her a headache. Now it flowed freely in waves, managing to catch every stray leaf and free slip of paper that the wind caught. Last she had spoken of cutting it short, Kliff had protested, and with him being the only opinion that wasn't her mother's, she obliged with little hesitation._

 _"Aw, come on..." He lamented, plucking blades of grass from the earth. Rune bitterly knew that somehow, by some coincidence wind or sudden early-spring storm, those loose blades of grass would end up tangled into her hair somehow. This silly thought aside, she opened her mouth to give a thoughtful and mystical answer, only to find that the truth spilled forth._

 _"I want to live. And spend this time living, not thinking of a bleak ending that I know nothing about. I've been close enough to death, and all I remember is being afraid and fighting to live. So I would much rather take that and be content with it until the time comes. And when it does, I want Death to know that I intend to fight to keep living." She felt cowardly for admitting this, as if all who fought were to face death with no sense of liability._

 _"Huh, I see." Bemused, Kliff rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars, paler than usual in their blue-white glow. "I wonder how many grand kings agree with your sentiment. How many of them would tell fearless men that there is something worth fearing."_

 _She chuckled at this, giving her head a light shake. "Their advice would be lost on you. You're not afraid of anything. I feel like you'd challenge Death to a three round chess match, double or nothing on your own life."_

 _"I'm just selfish, not reckless. I feel like someone telling me when my time is up should be up to me. It's my life, isn't it? I'm not too keen on giving up anything that I can claim as my own. And I don't plan on going anywhere until I'm damn well ready."_

 _She brought her ocarina to her lips, knowing that her tune would be shaky from the cold, but deciding it didn't matter. Before she could begin, she gave pause, touched with a feeling of heavy unease. "...You promise?"_

 _"Unquestionably."_

* * *

 _ **A/N: WOULD IT BE A SIN TO CALL THAT A... KLIFFHANGER.**_

 _ **Sorry if this one is a bit messy, it's late again but I wanted to finish it but I also should realllyyyy proofread but I don't quite feel like it and this is getting to be quite the run-on sentence, something you will probably see a lot of since I didn't PROOFREAD. Oh my Mila, I'm so, so sleepy. And have work in 5 hours. Goodnight! Read, review, give feedback, thoughts, etc! Much love.**_


	7. Doctor Alm and Not-Camping

**_One Star to the Next_**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 7_**

 ** _Doctor Alm and Not-Camping_**

* * *

 _"Oh, thank Mila. Kliff. Kliff!" Alm's panicked whisper echoed throughout the mess hall as he barreled towards the vegetable reserves, spotting a familiar mop of silvery-blond hair poking up over a collapsible counter. Everything, from the tents to the tables, was temporary; the Deliverance was always on the move._

 _As Alm skidded to a halt, Kliff, far paler than usual, turned to face him, clad only in hospital pyjamas. Blood soaked the waistband at his navel, but the bandages wrapped around his middle seemed to be mostly clean. A breath of relief that Alm had been withholding finally escaped; he half expected to see organs falling over his wound and a purplish blood trail in Kliff's wake. Even so, he was outraged at the fact that his friend stood before him, munching on an apple, looking as if Alm had come to comment about the weather._

 _"Hey, Alm," Kliff responded with a disinterested tilt of his head. His voice matched his body, reflecting the damage that he was masking so well. As nonchalant as he seemed, his pain was given away by the whisper to his voice; a shaky, barren sound that the fearless Deliverance's leader didn't like at all. He seemed to sway slightly on his feet, prompting Alm to snatch up a folding chair and quickly help him into it._

 _"Don't 'hey Alm' me, what are you doing up and about? If you were hungry, you should have just asked someone to get you something. It's not like you to be so reckless!" Realizing that he was nearly shouting at his grievously wounded friend, Alm moved past Kliff and fiddled around in containers, hunting for a high calorie package meal._

 _"I got overconfident back there." Kliff responded weakly, his forehead resting in a flat palm. "Honestly, I deserved what I got. I know my limits for sure, and I miscalculated. By all accounts, I should have gotten hit a few inches to the left and been hit in the spine. Or a few inches higher, and punctured through the lung." He didn't react as Alm knocked something over, causing an unholy echo in the silent mess hall. "Sheer luck I'm here and the one who threw that javelin isn't, huh? By his judgment, I'd be dead and he would be a victor."_

 _"I'm just glad you're still here with us, miracles and math be damned." Alm chuckled lightheartedly, finding something akin to boiled rice with fish and giving it a shake. It... seemed to be edible? Was a sealed bowl of food supposed to make that kind of slurping noise? He decided against it, fishing around for something lighter and more suitable. Now that he thought about it, Alm didn't even know what Kliff really liked. As a matter of fact, it felt like it had been years since he had spent any time of value with him. Sure, being comrades in arms they were constantly back to back and Alm placed utmost trust in Kliff, but as a person, it had been so long that he felt almost like a stranger._

 _All of his fellow villagers felt like strangers these days. Alm felt a sudden chill, shuddering it off as he redoubled his efforts to find food for Kliff. If he got too down about it, starting thinking about the way things were when they were carefree and close as could be and everything was easy, the morale of the entire Deliverance would be on the line. There was more than just friendship at stake now._

 _It was a lonely burden, even when surrounded by friends._

 _"Tch, damn. Bleeding again..." Kliff's soft curse snapped him out of his thought, and as emerald eyes turned back up to ask what was wrong, he was greeted with the sight of Kliff's hand over his side, blood pouring through the maroon bandage that had only moments ago been nearly clean. Panic welled up in Alm's throat, and with food completely forgotten, he threw himself to his friend's side, arms raised as if to help but afraid to touch him. Much to Alm's horror, Kliff started to stand up, swaying on his feet like low boughs in a strong breeze. The older boy pulled at his dark hair in a whirlwind of panic, his voice rising well above a whisper as he attempted to stop him without physically doing so._

 _"Kliff, you can't-... I mean, I don't know what to... AGH, we've GOT to wake Silque up! You probably shouldn't move! No, I mean you REALLY shouldn't move, sit back down! Or, I'll carry you-..."_

 _A hollow-eyed stare was Kliff's response; for a moment Alm was certain that he was going to protest. However, his wounded friend finally sat back down, though not without a wince of pain and an exhausted pant to his breath. "You look more wounded than I do, Alm." He softly scolded, forcing a laugh. "It's not that big of a deal, really. Just... offer a man a shoulder and help me back to the medical tent. I can wrap it back up myself."_

 _Brow still furrowed with worry, Alm gave in and pulled Kliff's arm around him, helping him to his feet while adamantly trying to carry most of his weight to make his steps lighter. Thankfully it was a blessedly short trek, and only once did Kliff seem to really stumble, falling into Alm with a mumbled apology that the hero would have none of. A trail of blood followed their wake, one that set Alm evermore on edge. How much blood was in one human body, anyways? Especially someone as thin as Kliff..._

 _"Listen, it's alright to leave me behind." The mage half-whimpered as he sat down on the medical cot, listlessly groping around in a drawer for more gauze._

 _"...What?"_

 _"Don't give me that. You've got to be thinking it, too. ...It's going to be a long time before I'm any good to anyone. Besides, who knows if I'll even make it through this and be able to fight afterwards. I don't want you to hold your march for me. Okay?" He spat this with malice, as if he knew that Alm was already going to protest. Of course, he was right about that. Alm seemed shocked at the very notion._

 _"You can just forget that, alright? You're going to be fine, even if I have to doctor you myself! And before you give me some Clive speech about the value of one life over a bunch of others, you can go ahead and rest assured that you're not going to change me any better than he did. You're not going anywhere. I swear it." His voice cracked with determination and something else, something Alm-like. Affection, maybe? Kliff couldn't place it.  
_

 _People often wondered how the two had become friends in the first place, both of them having little in common. Kliff, bullied through school with only books to call his friends, and Alm, popular and vibrant and lively with an aura that was almost noble at times. Kliff was always introspective and curious where Alm was always headstrong and not afraid to be seen as naive. Their differences were vast, but in their differences were there similarities. They were both content with who they were, not inclined to change for anyone else._

 _And, without a doubt, they were both stubborn._

 _"I guess you really don't give me any choice, huh?"_

 _"Absolutely not. Doctor Alm is reporting for duty!" He offered a dramatic salute, eyes blazing. Kliff could only laugh weakly, feeling a cough well up from within.  
_

 _"...Thank you, Alm."_

* * *

"I barely recognized you. Where are you going, dressed like that?"

Rune, who had been locking her front door behind her, whipped around and fumbled with the sword beneath her arm, managing to catch it against her side with her elbow. Saving this meant dropping her house key, which slid between the cracks in the brick stoop. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief and agony at her top tier luck stat. Kliff seemed to find this at least somewhat amusing, his accusatory glare dissolving as he bit his cheek to keep from laughing at her.

She seemed fidgety, stumbling over her words as opposed to her almost melodious characteristic tongue. "Oh, I... hello. How do you know where I live?" Was the first thing she could think to ask, a valid question, though she said it with such awkwardness that it was obvious she was avoiding his question.

He sized her up dramatically, glaring at her scale and chainmail clad form from head to boot before nodding towards her sword. "You look like you're going to go kill something. Are you supposed to be using your arm?"

The former soldier blinked rapidly, feeling as if she were being scolded for doing something wrong. Rune had to remind herself that she didn't have to explain her motives to a snarky boy three years her junior, but felt herself starting to already. "The villagers spread rumors like wildfire at market on the weekends and, well, I look into them. That's all. And besides, a sword is much lighter than an axe."

He dropped a hand on his hip, giving her an exasperated sigh. "...So you're a sellsword? A ruffian, basically. And here I thought you were some noble and dashing undercover soldier."

"I wouldn't quite call it that. I'm providing for my family by taking out a handful of bandits. This is the first time in a long time that I've been able to swing a weapon."

His eyes flashed mischievously, and he spoke so quickly that it was obviously the point he had been waiting to get to. "Can I go with you?"

Rune seemed to hesitate, unsure how to respond. Kliff notoriously leapt at any chance to get out of Ram Village, itching for the outside world. Feeling mild guilt for putting her on the spot, he tugged at his hair, changing his tune to a more polite one.

"If... you don't mind the company, that is. I'm sure you have very important Rune business to attend to."

"I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, a few days at minimum. Why on earth would you want to-..."

He interrupted her coolly, a sharp tilt to his tone as he launched into an explanation. "If I don't go with you, Gray is going to ask me to keep count of how many times Tobin misses in archery practice. Then they're going to get lunch together, without me, and then probably train with Mycen and Alm, without me. That leaves me alone, with my selfish mother and idiot sister and my books, until one of them realizes that it would have been polite to invite poor 'lonely' Kliff along. At which point I'll be dragged wherever they want me, even though I wouldn't have minded being left alone in the first place."

Rune rapidly blinked, a bit overwhelmed. "Wow... that might be the most I've ever heard you talk about yourself all at once." She seemed highly conflicted, tiptoeing around a response. "Listen, Kliff, a few days is quite some time, and this isn't a camping trip. I'm going to potentially kill someone."

Rolling his eyes, he let out a 'tsk' of annoyance. "You think you'll be babysitting me, don't you? Well, I'm not going to twist your arm about it. Forget I asked." He turned heel, stormy faced in embarrassment at being rejected, only to have her catch him under the elbow before he could stomp off and pretend that he had more important things to do. He shook her hand away quickly. "It's not like I actually wanted to go."

At this she couldn't help but laugh. "Gods, you're being unusually dramatic. You're desperate to get out of the village, aren't you?"

"I'm not _desperate_ ," was his snappy rejoinder, though the answer was a resounding yes. There were so many things that his history books had marked just beyond Ram, which certainly did nothing to stifle his wanderlust. At this point, the homebody life was akin to suffocation.

"I don't know... shouldn't you ask your mother?" She shrugged, and upon seeing him open his mouth to protest she raised her hands defensively, backpedaling her statement as quickly as she could. "Oh, just save it!" Shifting from one foot to the other, she glanced skyward and then back at him, a stern frown set to her features. "Fine. Pack light. And if your friends or family come after me with torches..."

"They won't even notice I'm gone."

* * *

A six and a half mile westward patrol around the outside of the village proved to be mostly fruitless, making the act of hunting down criminals and potentially bringing them to justice seem like a light hike. Rune was adamant about changing paths frequently, insistent that if they were just to follow the perimeter through the woods, they would be bottle-necked into an enemy camp with the possibility that they were being followed.

Kliff, who hadn't sensed anyone following them at all, remained agreeable and didn't argue it. Rune seemed jumpy, constantly on the lookout for markers or sign of troublemakers having settled before carefully picking her way forward. She was so thorough that he was certain she'd be too exhausted to fight when she finally did find her mark. _If_ they found their mark.

And, he found himself wondering, what would happen if and when they did? Would they be able to calmly settle it with no bloodshed? No, of course, telling a lawless criminal not to plunder an hurt the innocent only gave them more reason to rebel. It was likely that Rune was correct: they would have to be brought to justice. His hand clenched and unclenched at his sides, ears pricked for the sound of any disturbance. If their mark had stolen enough to be satisfied, was Rune to follow them and take back what was stolen anyways, even if they were making an escape? Feeding their families? ...Who paid her for such a dangerous job when there were guards at all entrances to the village?

The thought of taking the life of another filled him with apprehension, but not quite fear or outrage. It made logical sense. It seemed sound. It almost seemed easy. Doing it may be another world altogether, though.

An eternity later, dusk began to settle in over the trees, leaving the forest floor far darker than the pale sky. The pair picked their way over roots and hungry mud, feeling the initial tension of a dangerous job dissolve into what amounted to a quiet journey in a large, lazy oval around the perimeter of the woods. Only once did they spy another sign of human life; a merchant moving from one village to the next on a horse-trodden road. Rune had been on the defensive even still, but the carriage came and went with no incident, the driver hiccuping from partaking in his stock of Ram Wine.

"Driving drunk," Kliff commented under his breath, letting out a sigh. At least that mule knows where it's headed." Rune said nothing, prompting him to look over his shoulder to see if she was even still with him. She was, eyes turned upwards and hands wringing together in her leather gloves. "...Rune?"

She was vacuous; distant. "This will be a good place to wait for the night. If the enemy is on the move going the same way we are, we'll never cross paths following at the same pace. Back off of this trail should be just fine, so long as we don't make a fire." She spilled this information as she sat her sword down against a fallen log, her breath making puffs of steam in the downy cold of the evening.

"You seem really tense," he pointed out, nearly blurted out, fishing a canteen from his bag. He half expected her to be angry or deny it. His mother and sister had taught him well that women didn't like being informed of such observations, but if she were annoyed with it, she gave no indication.

A sheepish laugh escaped her lips as she pulled off her heavy gloves, using her now free hand to tuck back a pale curl; an escapee. "I keep thinking that I shouldn't have let you tag along. Not that I think you're weak, it's just..." She sat at the base of the rotwood beside her sword, rolling up her sleeve enough to see that her elbow had begun to swell slightly. Of course it had. "I can't see at night. Visibility is already poor, and I'm a sitting duck once night falls."

"Should you be wearing glasses?" He inquired, and admittedly the thought of her charging into battle with a pair of specs was rather amusing.

"My vision is otherwise fine, it's just a night blindness from a nasty hit. Perhaps it shook my brain all around and left it jumbled." She pointed at the scar on her face quickly, shaking her head as if to dismiss it. "I admit, I'm a little worried to not have a fire, and I don't want anything to happen to you. Gods, imagine your mother if-..."

That thought seemed to sour him. "Forget it. I'm pretty capable, you know." Silence fell over the pair for a long while before Kliff spoke again, inching closer to prying. He opened his mouth closed it, opened it again, and wondered what was worse; keeping it to himself or potentially saying the wrong thing.

"You know, Tobin and Gray both would get a kick out of you, but you really don't seem interested in making friends in the village." He tugged at his hair, folding his knees against his chest. "Trust me, I can understand that sentiment, but you don't ever really seem to be inside the village itself. As a matter of fact, we only met because I was going to school at the next small town over. And this... is your job. Not herding, chopping wood, growing produce. You do this. _Outside_ the village."

She shifted a bit but remained silent, her ochre eyes locked onto the ground at her feet. "It must seem odd."

"What's more, village girls don't have their mothers paying creepy nobles to be their pack-mule wives around here. It may not be my business but... I don't think you're a commoner at all. Which begs the question of why you speak to me in the first place, and why you've never told me."

She gave her head a comical shake, folding her hands in her lap. "You believe that I owed you an explanation?"

"It's been gnawing at me for a while. I really don't know why it took me so long. Even now, your posture? It screams blue blood. It should have been obvious." He leaned forward, his tone becoming accusatory. "The last time nobles came around, they attacked us and Alm's closest friend had to be taken away. It's not completely out of the realm of possibility that they're after something in specific, and you're a scout for Desaix's forces."

Her features seemed to darken at this, a flickering flame of anger in her auburn eyes. "I'd tell you I'm not, but now you seem to have me pegged as an enemy for a birth that I'm ashamed of. Of course I'd keep my business to myself! Can you imagine the treatment the villagers would give me if they knew that my family used to be allied to Desaix's men?" It was almost a shout; Rune wasn't one prone to raising her voice in the first place. Kliff winced, but didn't feel inclined to apologize and instead pressed further.

"All the more reason it's fair of me to ask, don't you think?"

"You believe it's fair to dredge up my past? It's dead. All of it. Nobility, money... I never asked for any of that, and I don't miss any of that. This isn't the life my mother wanted, but I'm _happy_ where I am. I don't want my only friend thinking I'm a double deceiver that can't be trusted."

Crimson eyes blinked, taken aback and stormy with guilt. "Yeah, well..." He tsked in irritation, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. "Man, you go and pull the 'only friend' card right when I'm getting somewhere, too... that's _really_ unfair."

Her features softened at his bitter tone, eyes cast towards the sky again. "It's a little sad, but it's true. When I was younger I had two friends, but once we got older they chose politics and I chose the military. My father became my closest friend after that, and that was honestly all I ever needed. Seeing my mother with her noble friends was stomach turning, and my father and I would train together and laugh and make fun of their fake accents. The things they nitpicked about seemed so small and silly..." Rune realized that she was going on a tangent and stopped herself. "Ah, sorry."

"Don't apologize for it. Your father, he's alright with the way things are now, then?"

Pain touched her face and she shook her head, forcing a sheepish laugh to mask the tightening of her throat. "He's not with us anymore."

Another kick in the face. It wasn't like Kliff to sugar coat his words or pull punches, but he hadn't pried with the intention of completely hurting anyone's feelings. "I shouldn't have opened my mouth without knowing that. I sounded like a total jackass. I'm sorry, I-..." He halted mid-sentence as she furiously shook her head, holding her hand up to silence him.

"How would you have known better? You're smart to be wary." She dismissed anything else he had to say, rummaging through her belongings as her stomach roared. "Forget it. The only thing I'm feeling is hungry, so your apology is falling on deaf ears. I refuse to hear any more of it."

"Fine, have it your way. I won't apologize." He eyed her bag with an expression of longing, feeling weak and moody with hunger. "I... may have forgotten to bring food for myself."

"Then what _did_ you bring?"

"A few books."

"...Of course."

* * *

Kliff awoke to the feeling of his nose being tickled, opening his eyes to see nothing but the tan nape of Rune's neck and pale, disheveled curls. As if stung, he shot upright and scrambled away, covering an impressive few feet in one fluid movement. The unconscious woman seemed none the wiser to the fact that a freezing Kliff had crawled over in the middle of the night and curled up at her back, and upon his very life and pride, he intended to keep it that way.

 _'If shame could kill, I'd be a corpse...'_ he thought bitterly, pulling stray damp leaves and pine from his hair. The sound of silence was what caught his attention; certainly only seconds ago the sound a of a whooperwill had been what startled him awake in the first place. Now the fauna made not a sound, silence hanging heavy and bringing with it a feeling of intense dread. Even the morning sun seemed to hesitate, blotted out by a passing storm cloud that threatened to open Mila's rainy blessings upon the forest. Moving slowly, silently, he reached for the shortsword that he had left resting against his belongings; a gift from Mycen that all of Alm's friends had received. Upon leaving out the day before, Kliff had been itching to try out magic in battle, but now the idea of using a weapon he wasn't familiar with seemed foolish. Mind over matter, perhaps.

His heart throbbed loudly in his ears and low in his throat; fear and adrenaline, hanging onto the feeling that something was going to happen. _Something_ was nearby, that much he was certain about.

A rustle and snapping of twigs from both his north and northeast confirmed that there were two somethings. Another; a third. Possibly a fourth.

"I knew bringing you along was a terrible risk," a whisper touched his ear, causing his heart to lurch so suddenly that he nearly screamed. At some point Rune had risen and now wielded her weapon at his side, her face an uncanny mixture of exasperation and sadness, lacking the fear he expected to see. "Taking a life is akin to losing an innocence that can never be reclaimed. You know, I could hold them off while you run."

"Really? I'm not running. I think it's a little exciting," he snarked, though his wavering voice may have given away his shaky anxiousness. Had he been granted foresight, he would have well known that the path to peace was one littered with the bodies of those who would later oppose the Deliverance, but in the here and now, the frightening present, he felt overwhelmed and outmatched.

"Of course you would. You are quite the sadist, aren't you? If you're not going to run, do exactly as I say. I mean it. Now isn't the time to show how independent you can be."

He wanted to snap back, to defend his fragile teenager's honor, but fell silent at her next order.

"Be ready to kill."

* * *

 **A/N:** ** _Hullo, this chapter is a two parter! Why? Because I rambled far too long and needed to break it up! I honestly don't know which I enjoy writing more, Rune vacantly reminiscing about whatever nonsense is on her mind, or Kliff going on uninitiated sass tangents about his friends and/or opinions. I feel like this entire chapter is just moody Kliff, the sort that says all the wrong things and sends Small-Talk Tobin running away in fear of being snarked at. Oh my, he's become quite confident._**

 ** _I also really enjoy writing the juxtaposition of him before joining Alm vs the more present scenes; it's super fun. Anyways, read, review, enjoy, feedback, have a great day!_**

 ** _As usual, it's late and edits, fixes, and proofreading will be done probably by tomorrow, so please bear with me on that._**


	8. Sky Burial and Not-Lovesick

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **Sky Burial and Not-Lovesick**

* * *

"A hand that knows to steal can't be taught honesty." Rune wiped the blood from her sword against her thigh before tucking it back away inside of its sheath, her breath a ragged panting.

The attack had gone from an eternal sense of impending dread to over in mere seconds. Kliff had been wrong, much to his chagrin; he had far overestimated the number of attackers. There had only been two; hulking, incredibly muscle-bound brutes who barely spoke his language. They had hardly seemed human at all, eyes vacant and weapons rusted with kill.

For all of Rune's planning the day before, Kliff was pretty sure the thieves weren't intelligent or intentionally pacing themselves in expectation of a mercenary on their tail. It was obvious that their sins had been performed by force and reckoning instead of a conniving wit, which made them all the more terrifying to take down.

One had foolishly charged forward with no attempt to protect his vitals, only to be quickly cut down by Rune's sword. The other, perhaps the slightly more intelligent of the two, had taken it upon himself to go after Kliff. He had hesitated despite knowing better, barely managing to defend himself from the full brunt of his enemy's massive weight. It had felt like getting hit with a boulder, a sheer wall of muscle. He had used his blade as a shield and upon shifting the force to shove his attacker aside and to the ground, had sliced clear through the fool's wrist, his eyes wide in horror at the fact that a man's body part had just been completely removed.

Even Rune had been surprised, enough so that the wailing thief had time to scramble away, his deceased partner left where his body had fallen. He had also left his lost hand behind without a second glance, cradling the stump against his massive chest as he fled like a wounded animal. Kliff had stared at it, his face paler and his stomach twisted with bile, as it lay in a thick, blackish pool of blood like a haunter's cheesy prop. Upon spotting it, Rune had set a task of burying it beneath shallow dirt, leaves, and growth.

Certain that it was over, Kliff leaned against a tree, feeling his knees tremble as he gaped at the body, expecting a turmoil of emotion at the sight of a _person_ laying dead before him. It was almost anti-climactic that he couldn't bring himself to actually feel much of anything but relief. "What do we do with that?"

"I killed him, so I will bury him," she informed him gravely, opening and closing her hand to see if it would respond. Her fingers were able to half-close in an uncomfortable twitch before she hissed through her teeth in pain.

"Why bother with a burial for scum like that? They've killed innocent people and taken what doesn't belong to them. You really think they deserve that much respect?" He finally managed to stand upright, feeling the coppery scent of blood hanging about around him like a foul cloud. His heart roared in his chest, deafening his hearing. Apparently, his adrenal system had yet to receive the memo that it was all over.

"It's not for respect. Bodies bring rot, disease, parasites, scavengers. The last thing Ram Village needs is coyotes and buzzards around the livestock and decay near the water sources. She glanced at him, concern knitting her brow. "Are you alright, Kliff? You look like you're going to faint. Why don't you sit down?"

"I'm fine," he said quickly, glancing from the body to the blood on the leather of her pants and then towards the expanse of forest, feeling his head spin nauseatingly. "I didn't know you were that strong, Rune."

"It doesn't take strength to hold a weapon against a charging bull, especially when they make no attempt to protect themselves. I suppose fools like that get what's coming to them, huh?" She wiped her brow against her forearm, letting out an upset sigh. "It's a shame that saying that doesn't actually make me feel better about it. It makes you wonder if it's really quick and painless."

"Don't do that to yourself. It was fight or die, right? Criminals know the weight of their crimes before and after they commit them. Think about the villagers that we potentially helped instead," Kliff spoke with confidence, though it sounded more like it was meant to reassure him than her. Regardless she bobbed her head in agreement.

"Let's be done with this and get out of here. I'm not spending another night on a damp forest floor, that much is for certain. Though I must admit, it took far less time than I anticipated. I was prepared to be hunting and waiting for a week or so."

"A _week_?" Kliff repeated with a groan, pushing pale, unruly locks back from his forehead. "Gods, no way. I'm glad those morons charged at us if that's the case. I'm ready to go home and sleep in a bed and never camp again." Little did he know what awaited him in Alm's company in the coming months, of course.

Rune scoffed at this, rolling her eyes. "Really? You seemed pretty comfortable, snuggled up beside me like a pet." It was almost alarming how quickly Kliff had gone from white as a ghost to a solid pepper red, bringing a much needed smile to her lips in such a trying time. "You don't have to look so embarrassed. Was it better for me to pretend not to notice, or should I have rolled over and cuddled you?"

"You are the _worst,"_ he murmured under his breath, dusting off his clothing and looking around to make sure he had all of his things. "I'm leaving you behind and going home." Scanning for any loose belongings, his eyes fell on the body once more and his chest lurched uncomfortably at the idea of actually leaving her to clean up such a macabre scene all alone, though he knew she wouldn't object. Perhaps that was what made him feel all the worse about it.

"I'm moving him to a nearby mountaintop and giving him a sky burial. Perhaps it's a bit ceremonious and undeserved of a thief, but I'm the only one who will be attending the service anyways." Rune was speaking indirectly again, a trait that Kliff had come to recognize as her coping mechanism when her mind was troubled. It was as if everything she had ever learned or felt about a subject came flying out of her mouth at once when she was upset.

"I'll help," Kliff stated rather than offered, though the thought of touching the corpse filled him with dread all over again.

Hauling dead weight through marshy woods and up rocky crag was far harder than either of them had anticipated, and the journey was a solemn, sobering one. Heavy silence fell over the entire wood far into the afternoon, when the rest of the village would be swapping stories over soup, salad, baskets of fresh laundry, afternoon naps. There was something haunting about seeing death during the day, when the sun was kind and bright. Death felt as if it should have belonged to the night, but nature has a funny way of doing as it pleases.

With the attacker turned victim at a turbulent rest, there only remained the trek back to the village, another unhealthy day of bogs, animals, insects, danger, discomfort. "Well, if you haven't had an existential crisis about the mortality of humankind today, there's your daily dosage." Rune's right knee buckled as she stepped sideways into soft mud with the consistency of quicksand, catching herself on Kliff's shoulder with a grip deadly enough to almost pull it out of socket. "Apologies. It took my boot." she curtly commented, blind to his silent scream of agony as he rolled his shoulder. He glanced downwards, confirming that she indeed was without a shoe.

"Rune, seriously, how did you-..."

"It happened so suddenly, okay!? It's not like I took it off and tossed it in!" If the shrill sound of her voice were any indication, this was the most devastating event of the entire day. She watched it sink with wide eyed horror. Turning to face forwards again, her shoulders seemed to slump in acceptance at her loss. "That's that, then."

"...Yeah. That's that."

* * *

"Yo, buddy, where ya been?" Gray dropped an arm around Kliff's shoulders, causing him to immediately tense. He felt as if he were filthy and caked in blood and mud, the former of which thankfully had dried maroon and was hard to distinguish on his reddish clothing as it was.

The pair had just walked through the wooden barricades that marked the eastern entrance of the village, feet blistered, clothing disheveled, and caked in dirt. Normally being spotted by one of his friends wasn't truly that awful, only a slight annoyance, but being seen while looking less than pristine was a pet peeve of Kliff's. Perhaps it was some form of foolish pride, but having spent so many years much smaller than his older friends, he took pride in looking less disheveled than his more muscular, foolish counterparts.

And having just helped Rune dispose of a dead body didn't really put him in the most sociable of moods. There was that factor, too.

"Ugh, I was training. Come on, don't lean all over me, Gray." Kliff protested quietly, and was swiftly ignored as Gray turned to face an equally roughed up Rune, pulling at Kliff's neck without realizing it. An exasperated groan escaped the younger of the two, and he knew full well what kind of nonsense was about to occur. Gray and Tobin both functioned on the same spectrum of girls and gold, with Tobin leaning towards cashgrab greedy and Gray towards naively lecherous.

It was for these reasons that he preferred Alm or Faye's company, seeing as the other two were shenanigan magnets. Pretty girl wants someone to beat up an ex? Gray was there. Bet that Tobin wouldn't free jump off the roof of Mycen's silo onto the back of a sheep? Consider it a challenge against the gods themselves.

"Did you rescue a damsel in distress, buddy?" Gray raised an eyebrow at the condition of Rune's armor, though it didn't seem to deter his ability to pretend to be charming as all hell. "You could have called on me for help. The biggest, strongest, handsome-... uh, handsomest... of your friends."

"Good point, too bad I didn't think of you. Man, what a shame." Kliff snarked in retaliation. Gray seemed too otherwise occupied, releasing Kliff and crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps were tensed, perhaps in an attempt to look larger than they were. _'Well... nobody can ever fault you for lack of trying...'_ he thought, biting at the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile.

Rune, too fatigued to do much besides blink slowly, raised her undamaged hand halfway with a twitch of her fingers. "Oh, uh, it's very nice to meet you..." She racked he brain, trying to match Kliff's gossip to the man in front of her. About her age, tall, dark skinned. Chatty? Maybe. "Are you... Tobin?"

Gray blanched at this, blinking furiously as if something had just flown into his eye. "What? Seriously? _Tobin_? You're trying to hurt my feelings right out the gate?" He sounded genuinely offended by this. Rune turned a bewildered gaze to Kliff who only slowly shook his head in response, giving the most passive of shrugs. Gray seemed to recover from this rather quickly, taking a massive step forward and extending his hand in front of Rune's nose. "I'm-..."

Kliff interrupted him swiftly, knowing full well that he was being facetious. "He's Gray." The frustrated look that his friend shot him was certainly a wonderful reward.

"Oh, my apologies. I've heard many... er, grand things about you, Gray. It's wonderful to finally meet someone that Kliff speaks so highly of." Rune's voice had become sweet as honey as she accepted Gray's handshake with a militaristic professionalism. "I'm Rune. My goodness, he talks about you _all_ the time."

Kliff scoffed at her fib, color rising to his cheeks. "I most certainly do not..."

Gray cocked an eyebrow at this, eyes rolling towards the trees as he ran the name Rune through his mental hard drive. "Huh, he's never mentioned you before. Has he? ...Maybe I just wasn't paying attention. My Ma says that people who don't say nice things shouldn't talk at all, so I just sort of tune Kliff out. But I think I'd have remembered him mentioning a lovely lady."

"I see." she stated flatly, releasing Gray's hand. She quickly glanced upwards, gave the both of them a cordial wave, and then walked past them with flourish, heading in the direction of her home. "It's been a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps we could chat another time, maybe over lunch."

Gray watched her go before turning to Kliff, a smirk plastered to his tanned face as if it had been glued there. Kliff returned his smile with an accusatory stare with a hand on a narrow hip. "Well done, Gray. She seemed angry. How did you manage that so quickly?"

"Huh? Me? I got asked on a date, man. _You're_ the one she's pissed at. Did you see her face when I said that I've never heard of her before? Girls don't like to be treated like secrets. Makes 'em think that you're ashamed of them!" Gray pushed a hand through his untidy black locks, looking mighty proud of himself. "That might've been the furthest I've ever gotten with a girl. I can't believe it's that easy to shake their hands!" He jumped from pride to thoughtfulness in one fell emotion. "Though, I gotta say, I prefer blondes. She's not really my type."

"So now you think you're expert enough to give me advice, huh?" Kliff was loathe to admit that he had never even considered what Gray had suggested. Did it make him a bad friend? But it wasn't like there was a rule that he had to disclose the business of one friend to another. And yet, he felt like he was always mentioning Alm or Tobin in passing, and never mentioned Rune to any of them.

"I'm pretty much always a lady expert, my friend. The other day, I helped an old lady weed her garden pretty much for free. Trust me. I know how to make 'em smile." The genuine twinkle of joy in Gray's eyes halted Kliff from making a biting comment. "But dude, you should get home. Your Ma was fuming, stomping around like a tyrant. Did you go home yesterday?"

Kliff tugged at his hair subconsciously, giving his head a slow shake. "I didn't. Sorry if she gave you a hard time..."

"Nah, I already told her you were staying at my place. She still seemed ready to strangle me, but it only takes an ounce of Gray charm to calm a raging bull." He clapped Kliff on the back hard enough to cause him to lurch forward, though Gray hardly noticed."You're welcome to actually stay at my place, you know. My Ma loves having you over."

Kliff could already hear the sound of his mother's shrieks, scolding him, preening over him, accusing him of trying to give her a heart attack. His sister, bitter, jealous, joining in for the sake of making him evermore miserable. And suppose he did decide to be honest? He knew from past experience that mentioning any of his friends was just asking to hear them berated and put down, not to mention that this one was a woman.

His frown deepened as Gray's knowing smirk grew, touched as it was with sympathy. "I guess… I ought to take you up on that if I want to leave the house sometime in the next century."

"Alright!" Gray slapped a hand on Kliff's back in the same damned spot as before, eliciting an exhausted grunt from him that Gray didn't seem to notice at all. "Dude, I found a potato that looks just like Alm. I'm not kidding man, even Alm thought so."

It was disheartening to Kliff that _this_ was preferable to even going home. "Wow, Gray. I can't wait."

* * *

 _"They said that a village boy from Alm's motley crew was injured in the battle against both Slayde and Desaix. Pardon if I'm overstretching my bound." Mathilda gestured at the seat beside Kliff, sitting primly on its edge as he nodded without a word. "But that was you, wasn't it, young man? I've just recently noticed you carry yourself with an uncanny posture that is not quite right."_

 _He winced a little at this, wearing a wry smile. "Thanks for noticing, I appreciate having my flaws pointed out."_

 _The blonde blinked, her brow furrowing with surprise at his hostility. "Are you ashamed? What ever for? It's near unheard of for one to recover to the point of returning to battle in such a short time, not to mention that you're back out in the fray. Why, when I joined, I never suspected that anyone in the army had been at death's door only months prior."_

 _"What can I say? Had I died, there'd be nobody to keep Gray and Tobin from strangling each other." Kliff folded his arms across his chest, letting out a tsk of annoyance. "Don't coddle me like I'm some hero just for getting hurt in combat. Soldier's shouldn't get a free pass unless they were saving someone else. My shame is that I was so determined to prove myself that I got arrogant."_

 _"I shall not bring it up again, despite my grievances with your attitude. Permit me to change the subject." She dusted her hands off as if washing the issue away, and it seemed to be enough to get him to drop his aura of spite and uncross his arms. "The young lady, did she appreciate her gift? I admit it was not my finest work, but I would welcome feedback for my craft."_

 _"Craft, huh?" Kliff chortled, though lightheartedly. Mathilda's cross-stitching was beginning to show up all over camp, from fixed tents to named embroidered into clothing. Kliff had seen, only hours ago, a sleeping Clive drooling into a small throw-pillow that read "Our Love Conquers All Conquerors!" in shaky, stitched script. His manifestation deadened a bit at her actual question as if he were unsure how to answer. "There hasn't been any response."_

 _"Oh. I do hear that Ram Village is at least a fortnight's journey, especially with the changing season. Or perhaps-…"_

 _"I've never gotten a response." He snapped unkindly, cutting her off. "Don't make it your business."_

 _Mathilda sat upright with dignity, brushing golden hair back over her shoulder. "You are a very prickly young man. 'Don't talk about this, don't mention that.' Perhaps you've heard no response because speaking with you is akin to free-standing on a Pegasus in flight!" Brown eyes flashed with both anger and mischief. "I presume you fill your letters with malice?"_

 _"I don't write much of anything. When I begin to, my stomach starts hurting. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth the effort, knowing that I won't hear back."_

 _Her annoyed expression softened into one of pity. "Oh my dear, you're simply lovesick."_

 _A pregnant pause filled the air around them before Kliff moved to get up and leave immediately. A deadly grip on his elbow caught him before he could make an escape. He flopped back down with an over-dramatic sigh as Mathilda cleared her throat, waving across the camp._

 _"My, but don't Clive and I have the most wonderful advice to give a young, suffering soul such as yours! Clive, might I borrow you?!" The soldier rose to the sound of her voice almost mechanically, beaming as he crossed camp to heed her call._

 _Clive gave a bow, a cheesy, ridiculous bow, closing Mathilda's free hand within both of his. "My beloved need not even ask for my attention, she commands it."_

 _Kliff considered what he was about to be subjected to, and then considered the nature of his flammable cotton shirt. 'If I set myself on fire, can I get out of this?'_

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry this took forever, and then took longer because I had to rewrite and edit what little I had. Thanks for all the new follows! I suppose it is its own form of silent support._

 _Also, I enjoy writing Mathilda and lost much of what was an actual fight in the woods, and then had to edit down a lot of gore that made me sit back and go "I can't read Stephen King before I write this or it becomes vile." Which is true. I'll be editing for typos a little later, but I had to get this out before I drove myself crazy with it. I have so many ideas for following chapters that this one because difficult to finish._


	9. White Magic and Guilty Conscience

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

 **White Magic and Guilty Conscience**

* * *

 _A/N: Yes, it's been awhile! Sorry, I started school and the lack of feedback that I was getting left me a little discouraged. Then I kind of realized: regardless of reviews, people are reading, and regardless of content or follows, I'm just genuinely enjoying writing again. I'm also working on cleaning up other chapters a bit (it's hard to proofread what you write) and this one was started... maybe a month ago? And I just now finished it. More than anything I'm just aching to get to the next one, since it's almost HALLOWEEN and I want to write something spooky and I'm excited and will see you after the chapter. Phew!_

* * *

 _"These witches are a pain..."_

 _"Very insightful of you." Luthier chimed in from a few feet away from Kliff, brushing burnt fabric and singed hair off of his robe. "If only you'd been slightly more insightful, you would have known that they've very capable of teleportation and… well, then I wouldn't have had to risk my life for you."_

 _Kliff turned to face the other mage, his arms folding across his narrow chest in what seemed to be anger, though a smirk tugged at his mouth. "Damn… you got me there. You know, you're kind of a prick."_

 _"Rather that than a reckless fool on the battlefield. You believe that Silque should follow you around, patching you up at all times? Is there something you're trying to prove?" Luthier's particular way of speaking seemed to hint to a lush upbringing; his every word was calculated and enunciated and his wit was quick. Kliff had thought himself the snappiest among Alm's army, but it seemed he truly had stiff competition._

 _"If I had something to prove, do you really think I'd be reckless?"_

 _Luthier heaved a sigh, brushing his fringe aside as he finished his preening. "What are you even fighting for?"_

 _Almost as if he had heard the same question many times, Kliff's answer was swift and resolute. "I need a reason to save my homeland?"_

 _"Hahah! You couldn't care less about politics and war. Truly, if you want my opinion, I think you have someone to impress, or you like the idea of killing without being punished." Luthier's expression was daunting; a wry little smile beneath eyes seething with both wisdom and trouble._

 _"You think I'm using war as an excuse to hurt people?" Pale hands balled into fists as Kliff took a step closer to Luthier, standing up to his full height. "How about I use it as an excuse to hurt you? Don't think just because Alm trust you that I'm foolish enough to do the same." He paused for a moment, dropping the tension in his fists, slightly miffed that Luthier didn't flinch in the slightest. "…I don't like you."_

 _" **CHILDREN.** " Both mages jumped in surprise at Silque's voice, turning to the cleric with their faces painted with surprise. It was rare enough to hear he speak outside of her quiet prayers, but apparently she had quite a commanding set of lungs. Despite her bark, she seemed perfectly serene as she placed one hand on Kliff's shoulder and one upon Luthier's. "Perhaps we should use this time to celebrate that our Mother has brought us all safely through another battle as opposed to battling one another?"_

 _She said it as a question, but there was no doubt from her tone that neither of them were supposed to answer or argue. Avoiding her gaze, they looked at one another, a rivalry sparking upon the silent notion that this would not be their last scuffle._

* * *

"I was looking through my library and found some tomes about the history of white magic." Breathless, Rune dropped a stack of hardcover tomes on the table in front of Kliff, causing his drink to wobble dangerously before stabilizing itself. Crimson eyes glanced to the drink and then back to the book that obscured most of Kliff's face, his pale eyebrows raising and vanishing beneath his fringe in what might have been surprise.

He was not expecting to see her, and was beginning to believe that Gray _had_ been correct, as wildly improbably and rare as it was. A mere two days had passed since their return from the pleasant forest hike that had ended with a criminal's burial, and though it was a short amount of time, it was the longest amount time Rune had ever given him the cold shoulder. The smart thing to do would be to ask what was wrong, but yesterday he had waved and she had brushed by with her posture ramrod straight, leaving him with his hand in the air like a fool. After that discretion (BETRAYAL, if his pride were the one being asked), returning the cold shoulder seemed like the best option. Not the mature option, but the one that got his point of _'I hardly speak to anyone, how dare you snub my attention'_ across.

But now she was here, interrupting his afternoon tea and trying to dissuade his saltiness with books. She regarded him with a tilt of her head, clearing he throat. "Some of these studies are simply fascinating."

"That's nice. It's not like I'm busy or anything." His tone was dripping with sarcasm as he turned another page. Kliff didn't have to look at her to know that she was giving him a scrutinizing stare. As if to confirm her annoyance, she gathered the books back in her arms and whipped around on her heel with enough enthusiasm to send her coral curls twirling about her like a fan. Before she could march away, he pushed the chair opposite to him out with his foot, closing his book with a sign.

"Gods, I was kidding. Go on, sit. Ramble." He rolled his eyes as she glanced back, gesturing to the chair. Rune turned back around and slammed her books down once more, though this time he held his drink to keep it safe from her wrath.

She did just that, pulling her legs under her in the chair and leaving her sandals abandoned on the floor. Her long fingers pulled the second from the last book out of the stack and flipped it open, fumbling through the pages as he watched with well-concealed interest.

"Ahem. White magic can generally only be wielded by those with a naturally pure soul, though many skilled mages are able to eventually harness basic healing spells with experience. It's not uncommon for those raised in a holy atmosphere to develop these skills, even should they never acquire other magical abilities." She read this verbatim, glancing up to gauge his reaction. "…Neat, right?"

He could only blink in response, feeling as if this were the second half of a conversation that never occurred in the first place. "Well, yeah… It's well known that saints go on pilgrimages to help the sick. And everyone knows that a cut stitched up by a cleric will heal tons faster than regular means." He chased the teabag around his cup with a spoon, eyes narrowing. "So… what made you decide you weren't mad at me anymore?"

Rune's brow furrowed at this, her expression one of genuine vexation. "Why ever would I be mad at you?"

"Seriously? You stormed off and then haven't talked to me in ages! …Days. A couple days." Suddenly he felt as if he were the one embarrassed and on the spot.

"I suppose I had other things on my mind, I didn't mean to offend. I got so lost in my own thoughts that I forgot to eat for the longest time. Besides, I… well, I didn't take you for one who _needed_ to spend time with your friends, which I suppose is unfair. Everyone needs to communicate from time to time."

This very idea seemed to baffle him. "You think socializing is a need?"

Hazel eyes regarded him with something unreadable, perhaps confusion. "Of course I do; everyone needs companionship. Do you think I don't need you?"

Kliff's face burned hot with embarrassment, prompting him to fold his arms across his chest and lock eyes with the open book, intent on avoiding eye contact as his heart throbbed painfully in his ears. "What were you saying before…?"

"Right! Listen to this! White magic does not simply close or heal wounds, it reverses the effect of time, akin to turning back the clock to a time before the injury or to the point where it would heal in the future. Combined with other forms of magic, white magic can accelerate time as well. Depending on the healer, the healed can look older, younger, or cease to age at all, should a spell retrieve them from death." She looked up, beaming with excitement. "It's like the injury never happened at all!"

He twisted a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger. "I admit I didn't know that."

"Furthermore, healing magic can be deadly. Should the caster not be cleansed, be inexperienced, or be tainted by evil, they could end up draining the very life of their patient. Many have tried to harness this ability as an offensive spell, though it is difficult to cast and is still under research. The figureheads prefer not to tech their pupils of this Nosferatu spell until they have mastered basic healing and can be trusted in their purity."

"Fascinating. But why are you reading me all this anyways? Thinking of joining a priory?"

"I considered it, but... I couldn't." She closed the book and held it against her chest, cutting her eyes aside as she bit at the corner of her mouth. "I was thinking about you, actually."

Kliff cocked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I need to be cleansed of my sinful ways?"

"I'm saying that you're obviously gifted by the spirits. If…" Rune's words faltered to a whisper that faded into nothing as Kliff sat upright, finally catching on.

" _Ooohh_ , I get it. You brought all this to the table, literally, to ask me an impossible favor." He half expected her to deny it, perhaps argue or explain herself, but she surprised him with a pained look and admission to his assumption.

"I did, and I'm sorry. I knew it was a long shot, but you have a natural talent for magic. It's a trait that's passed down and taught from a master to pupil, but look at what you've taught yourself. Who knows your potential or your limits? I thought maybe, if you could try to heal me…" Again her words failed her and she cast her eyes down in shame.

Kliff raised his hands as if pushing the very idea away. "Just stop. You just listed a handful of reasons why that's dangerous magic to play with. I'm not going to tamper with it and risk... Mila knows what!"

"Please don't be angry…"

"I'm not angry." He lowered his voice, not realizing that he had even started to raise it in the first place. "Why would I be angry about it? I'm _annoyed_ that you think there's something wrong with you, but it's not like I have a reason to be angry."

"I'm sorry. I had hoped that something small and mostly cosmetic would be easy. For the likes of you, at least."

"…I see." He regarded the curved scar along her temple, its ghostly tail tracing her cheek. Truthfully, he had forgotten how much it bothered her; he had forgotten that it existed. "Rune, listen. …I'll study, but that's all I can promise. I don't even know if I want to say that I'll try."

Both of her hands shot out and grabbed his, halting his anxious hair-tugging. "Truly? You'd do that?"

"Saying I'll study isn't worth much, don't make such a big deal. It's all that I can do, alright? It's a small promise, but-…" he was cut off as she lunged across the table, arms wrapped tight around his ribs. His bottom lip stung from the top of her forehead banging into his chin, and finally the ever so resilient cup of tea seemed to have met its match and toppled over. Kliff coughed weakly, caught off guard and unsure if he was even supposed to hug her back.

"Where should we-… Oh! They say the woods are a wonderful conduit for the earth spirits! I've also heard-…" Her excited rambling seemed to pick up to such a speed that it was unintelligible, and he has the oddest sinking feeling that something was off about the entire exchange.

* * *

 _'What am I doing. Why am I doing this. Oh boy.'_ Kliff flipped through the tome sitting open across his folded legs, his face screwed up in confusion as he occasionally glanced up, as if Rune were going to vanish with no warning. He didn't need to waste his time double-checking; she certainly wasn't going anywhere. But the longer that they sat, the more fidgety she became, preening at her clothing and folding and unfolding her hands, finally clearing her throat when she had reached her limit of fidgety-ness.

"What are you so hesitant about?" She urged, her words biting with impatience. Simply from experience she expected him to respond with attitude, but instead Kliff's expression became more perplexed and creased with worry.

"Just… shut up, how about that? And you have to be still." Suddenly he started to reach out to touch her scar with his palm, but she recoiled, causing him to let out a pent up breath of air that he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"What are you doing?" Her voice sounded guarded, defensive as if offended that he tried to touch her face.

"Trying to heal you, which is the entire point of all of this. Geez, I'm not going to hit you."

"Right, sorry…" Sheepishly she moved closer again, eyes closed and brow knitted with an unreadable emotion. This time when his hands closed on both sides of her jaw, she remained still. He regarded the white magic tome again, just to be certain that he knew the spell.

It was easy enough to tell that the spirits were willing to work with him, perhaps even eager to do so, and still he found himself unable to mentally recite the words that had to be spoken with his mind. Perhaps it was fear, or the idea that healing this scar would be some form of confirmation to Rune that she was less than human so long as it was visible. After all, if it could be healed, that meant that there was something wrong, another pointless weakness for her to scorn herself for.

He regarded her face with scrutiny in this rare moment that she wasn't staring back and forcing him to look away with a gaze that always seemed to say 'don't look at me,' and then dropped his hands with a sigh, clapping the book in his lap shut. Rune jumped at the sound, eyes fluttering open once more.

"Did… did it work?" She watched as he rose to his feet and quickly did the same, rummaging through her small bag for a mirror.

"Looks perfectly fine to me." He shrugged, cutting his crimson eyes away as she regarded her reflection with denial. Carefully she pushed her curls back, as if getting a better look at her entire face would make the difference. What stared back was an anxious girl. The green-gold eyes stormy with worry, a petite nose dappled with faint sun freckles, the same widow's peak, the same full lips, the same haggard scar. She was staring back at her own worst enemy, and it was frustrating to watch her regard herself with a glare of unfamiliarity.

"I don't understand." She looked hurt, perhaps even betrayed.

"I said it looks fine the way it is. If you would-..." Kliff slammed his mouth shut. He had been about to scold her, only managing to catch himself when he realized that he had no business doing so. It was her issue, after all, not one that he needed to adopt and try to fix. Rolling his eyes, he turned away from her bewildered stare as his cheeks rose in color. "Forget it. It's just something you need to learn on your own."

"I really thought you could do it. Was going along with me just an elaborate prank?" She was still studying her face, brow knitted studiously. If she was disappointed in him, it didn't read in her voice.

"Truthfully I was just scared of blowing your face up. I don't see why such a small scar should make such a difference to you." Half irritated and half playful, he slapped her wrist and knocked the mirror from her hand, watching it fly with some satisfaction. "And you act like I need to prank you to make your life difficult. You seriously underestimate me."

Rune blinked once, twice. "How dare you strike me. I should kill you." Her face was completely stony as she threatened his life; a deadpan drop of humor that seemed to shatter the tension.

"It's just a face," he added as an aside.

It was unspoken between them both that things had become that way, a constant cycle as their conversations had evolved from stars and flowers to harsher things, abstract concepts of life and magic and war and loss. Tension, ripple, shatter. And not for the first time, Rune felt the uncanny nagging sensation that she had just used Kliff to try and exorcise her own demons.

She thought, not for the first time, that he deserved far better. He also deserved to know that he deserved better, though admittedly she had tried keeping her distance and had failed ever so miserably.

And not being privy to her mental turmoil, Kliff shuffled his boots among the leaves, grumbling under his breath as he found a grimy piece of bark and tossed it over his shoulder. Her heart twisted painfully as she realized he was looking for her dropped mirror.

"Kliff…" She started, hesitant, feeling again that pang of what might have been agony as he turned to her, pine straw and dead leaves stuck to his long sleeves.

"What? Oh, hell… there it is." He bent again and scooped it up, taking a glance at himself. He tugged at his messy silver locks until it seemed to meet whatever his mental standard was before clapping it shut with a roll of his eyes. Rune bit at her cheek to keep from smiling; clearly, he appreciated his own reflection.

"Listen, it's important."

Something in her tone caused him to turn around, but a motion between the trees pulled his eye as a dark figure shifted. He tensed, opening his mouth to shout a warning, before realizing that the lurking figure creeping closer was... just Gray. Of course it was Gray. The two locked eyes for a split second, Gray's shuffling becoming a full on sprint to try and startle the poor girl before Kliff could rat him out. Rune had cast her eyes back at the ground, a frustrating habit that Kliff hated anyways, and she didn't see his brief flicker of fear because of it. For that, he felt she deserved it.

" **WHAT'S IMPORTANT?!** " The villager's voice boomed in an earsplitting roar as Gray rushed forwards and clamped his hands onto her shoulders, eliciting a scream of fear from her quite unlike anything Kliff had ever heard in his entire life.

It transpired in what was only seconds, but the details had been a delight to take in. Rune, stiffening in shock and then swinging her elbow around her. Gray, receiving a mouthful of said elbow and letting out a strangled cry of his own. Rune, falling down in her attempt to both get away and see what was after her life, followed by her profuse apologizing at decking him in the face. And Faye, who had been a few steps behind Gray, wagging her finger and scolding the already wounded teenager for sneaking up on a lady.

Whatever instinct had acted upon The Gray Threat and wounded him had now moved aside for her heavy penchant for guilt. "Please, let me take a look at it, I know first aid!" Gray's dark hands were clasped over his nose, and Rune was trying to pull them away with a force that seemed a few marks away from "gently" to see the damage.

"He's just playing it up, don't fall for it, miss." Faye had gotten tired of the display and only succeeded in getting herself in the middle of it, now twisting Gray's ear while keeping that scolding, wagging finger going. "If you're hurt that badly, Gray, then how will you protect Alm?"

"Faye! Uh, ow!?" Gray swatted at the blonde, finally revealing that his nose was, in fact, perfectly fine save for a smeared trickle of blood. "I'm already wounded. I take it you just want me dead?!"

"You're so dramatic!"

"It looks swollen…" Rune added weakly.

Gray, seeing the perfect opportunity to lay on a thick, cloying layer of charm as if it were toxic paint, wiped his thumb under his nose and cocked an eyebrow in his best charming smoulder. "If you'd kiss it, I'm sure it'd get better instantly." Rune seemed to haze him with her expression, and he took her silence as his signal to turn his attention to the other female. "Alright Elbows, you're the one missing out. Faye? Would you do the honors?"

Faye cut her eyes at him with a look of disbelief and horror that could have done more damage than even a second hit to the face. "…You're disgusting."

"What are you two doing here?" Kliff knew full and well that her comment was going to start frantic bickering between the two. he would bet every bit of gold he had ever earned that Gray's next words would be something along the lines of "not as disgusting as Alm!," and they would be slapping at one another before anyone had a chance to interfere.

"Excuse me. Don't you think we could ask the same of you?" Gray's hands dropped to his hips as he grinned, determined to stir up trouble. "Alone, in the woods? Oh, I get it. Were you… practicing your sword technique?"

"Gray and I are looking for Tomino's glass beads!" Faye interjected with a shriek, color lighting her cheeks a dark red. It seemed she caught on much faster than Rune, who was rather perplexed by his deduction considering she had no sword on her person. "Gray, you're being awfully rude to a stranger."

He waved the notion away with confidence. "Tch, this isn't a stranger! We met once. Her name's… ah… Ri-… Riley. Ricken. Rochester. The point is, we're acquainted."

"Rune. It's _one_ syllable, Gray." Kliff corrected. "And what did you say you were looking for? It freaks me out to see the two of you working together to do anything."

One-syllable Rune was taking a long look at Faye, cheeks rising in color as she realized that Faye was doing the same thing. That feeling of isolation had returned, the distinct notion that she was intruding or invading somewhere that she wasn't supposed to be. Seeing people that she had no right to see. Something in Faye's ochre stare told her that Faye agreed; perhaps knew she was an outsider. It seemed no matter how long she lived among them, villagers knew when someone wasn't one of them. As a peace offering Rune gently smiled, a gesture that Faye tilted her head at before the blonde's gaze flitted back to Gray.

"Yeah, Tobin wussed out and Alm is pretending that he's too busy. Truth is, he's just as scared. Faye came along to drag my body back."

"Or I'll just bury it and nobody will ever know…" Faye muttered quietly. Rune felt the hairs on her neck stand up at such a dark comment coming from such a cute girl. "Would you like to help us look?" That gaze went from Kliff to Rune again, though this time it was softer. "There's a lot of ground to cover."

Kliff shook his head, letting out a sigh. "What are you even talking about?"

"You've never heard of Cute Tomino? I guess your mom didn't want to scare her baby with ghost stories before bed." Gray dropped his voice to an eerie whisper, lacing an arm around Kliff's shoulders. "Better settle in then, friend. You're totally gonna help us!"

* * *

 _A/N: Tomino! Shout out to anyone who has ever heard of Tomino's Hell, I felt like it'd be a fun thing to play with. Next chapter will be a follow up. Also, Rune totally has a thing for blonde girls...? Making them eyes at Faye-... No, only kidding! I was just reading it back to try and proofread and totally was like "wait is this a thing?" Anyways, more Gray trouble to come. And for the flashforwards (or back, depending on which parts of the story you think are happening in "present" time!), I kind of just like bits of the army at a time. Planting a seed that I can come back and cultivate. So while the Deliverance marches and they move forward, these times in the village are more preserved in their time, which is why they're often one small moment, one conversation, etc. I hope that makes sense and that I'm getting that across? Mila's Turnwheel may or may not play a-... oops. Shh._ _Anyways, feedback, please!_


	10. Crow and Bard

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **Crow and Bard**

* * *

 _Thwack._

 _Thump._

 _An axe whipped through the air in an arc, slamming down upon its victim and splitting it in twain. The two halves fell aside as the weapon lodged itself in the stump. There was a slight struggle and a grunt of effort as the axe was wrenched free, and then another victim found the stump._

 _Thwack._

 _Thump._

 _Two more logs of firewood hit the earth either side of the stump. She raised her axe again, watching as her father put another log in place. A mindless overhead swing with power, a Thwack, and a Thump. And then another log._

 _And then a scream._

 _"Aaaarrgghhh!" With a strangled, choking cry, Oskar Melfia stumbled backwards from the stump, clutching his right hand against his chest as his youngest daughter's eyes widened in abject horror, her own scream rising in a panicked whinny._

 _"FATHER!?" She dropped her axe out of shaking hands and blitzed to his side just as he collapsed, blood dripping thin from between the fingers of his left fist. "Oh Gods, oh please, I thought you moved back, I thought you were-… I didn't see-…" words tumbled freely from her mouth as violently shaking hands tried to see the extent of the damage, half terrified that he would be clutching only a stump. "Your sword hand, too-…" she lowed weakly, feeling her blood run cold._

 _He opened his right hand, which, Rune noted, wasn't missing any fingers, to show a gristly palm-… no, upon closer inspection, it wasn't a wound at all._

 _It was a fistful of crushed blueberries. And he was laughing. A deep, wheezy laugh that startled Rune out of her frantic panic. Her pulse began to return to normal, replacing her fear with anger._

 _"Father!"_

 _"Your mother was baking, and it tickled me to see her hands stained with blueberry juice. It looked as if she had just murdered someone. I simply had to take a few and see if you thought it looked like blood as well." As his laughter subsided, he wiped tears from his eyes and began to clamber back up, a task that had become laborious the more he aged. "I suppose you did!"  
_

 _"I thought I had sliced your fingers off! How could you think that was funny!?" Rune was not one to shout; had never been, even when she was red with rage. Not once in her thirteen years had she ever yelled at her father. But now she shouted, feeling her voice waver with tears even still._

 _"It was not funny, my child." He dropped the muck and took to wiping his hand with his handkerchief, dabbing at his eyes again as another peal of laughter threatened him. "It was, quite simply, hilarious. Now stop your yelling, it's ill befitting a noblewoman to shout."_

 _"Father, you hate when Mother says things like that-…"_

 _He put up a hand, still stained purplish-red, to hush her. "Do not backtalk me, especially after you tried to quarter my hand."_

 _She felt herself smiling, arguing out of good nature. "Perhaps you shouldn't get in the way of my swings then! Have your reflexes slowed in your old age?"_

 _Thoughtfully, he stroked his beard. "Nonsense, it is your mother's pies making me fatter and slower. My reflexes are quicker than the legendary Lord Mycen."_

 _"I believe you." Rune began gathering logs, tossing them into the handcart. A crow gave a loud caw, indicating the approach of another Autumn evening. Two pairs of hazel eyes danced towards the sky, a near identical frown touching their faces; one young, one old. And like a chill, it passed and was not spoken of._

* * *

 _"Where are my wings, where are my wings…"_

A hollow whispering, like the sound of water dripping in an abandoned cavern, the sound of a winter wind pulling through dead trees, echoed back at the figure that it came from. Slumped, nude, skeletal, the figure simply raised a hand in expectation. Mere seconds later, a crow lighted upon this perch, her loud caw so close to his ear that it was a wonder he didn't recoil. Slowly, like a cobra dancing to stun its prey, he brought the bird closer to his ribby chest.

 _"The defiled king, dying in his throne. The daughter, now without a home. The conqueror, feeling all alone. And his son…"_ This whisper trailed off in a soft laugh.

This singsong nursery rhyme caused the bird to inch back, a soft call coming from its beak as it adjusted its wings as if to take flight. If this bothered the man, he did not react.

 _"And what of the noble who sold his soul? His wife unravels as yarn, unravels. Yet will he be touched? He won't. Not him."_ His lips touched the bird's head as he spoke, a near inaudible whisper. _"What of his children? The Darkness sees them, gnashes his teeth as he tarries for their tender flesh. The father will die, the father will lie."_ A whimpery laugh, the shuffling inhale of a madman.

 _"Souls eating souls eating souls... The sisters, they gather flowers to bury the brother. But the brother walks over glass towards Hell. One sister follows, just one, only the one with the black silk hair, fine as the feathers of a carrion crow…"_

The bird's call was louder, nearly a scream, as if it longed to interrupt his unsettling rambling. He did stop, did curl his thin mouth into a grimace that might have been a smile, and touched his forehead to its hollow body.

 _"Adella, a bard must tell his tales."_

With this, the crow alights again, flying free from the oppressive stone roof of the ruins, through the tangle of rotted wood, away from the cloying pull of darkness. She feels a force like tiny hands clutching at her flight feathers as she weaves and darts, but before long she is safe.

Safe, and far away.

* * *

"Apparently the way it goes it that you read the poem aloud and become cursed. The only way to lift the curse is the find Tomino's beads, which show up when Tomino appears."

Kliff gave Gray a look that was both piteous and annoyed. "So… what you're saying is, you willingly curse yourself."

"Uh…" Apparently Gray hadn't really given that much consideration. "I guess when you put it that way, yeah."

"I wouldn't be here either, but he read it aloud in front of everyone before even telling us what it caused," Faye added. "I figure it would be better to be safe than sorry. I'm really worried about Tobin; he went right back to work after hearing it. I think he was shaken up, but maybe he's more scared of getting scolded than cursed."

"Right, I got it." Kliff nodded. "So what does this curse do to the people who hear it?"

Gray and Faye looked at each other, hoping the other would have the answer. Finally, Faye shrugged as Gray muttered a quiet 'I 'unno…'. Kliff applied his palm to his face.

"Faye, I would expect Gray to fall for some crap like that, but you, too?"

"I wanted to know what it was! Maybe the curse is already working? Someone back at home might be hurt, and we could go home to find our families…" she trailed off, as if speaking her words aloud would cause them to ring true.

"Do you remember the poem, Gray?" Rune finally spoke.

"Uh, I have it written down." He fished in his pockets and found a folded piece of parchment, handing it over as Rune's brow furrowed.

"This is from a book."

"Uh, DUH! So that means it isn't just some children's ghost story passed around, see? That really makes me think it's real." Gray raised a hand as if to stop her as she unfolded it. "Wait, don't read it out loud!"

"If the two of us aren't cursed, can we even see the beads you were talking about? How can we help? It would stand to reason that if those beads are the key to lifting the curse, then they haven't just been lying around for the naked eye to see."

That was apparently the last thing Kliff expected to hear. "Rune! I can't believe you're falling for this nonsense! It's probably something that some kid thought would make for a fun Harvest prank and yanked out of a book of poetry!"

She gave Kliff a blank stare, confused at his outburst. "You can shoot fire from your hand by reading an incantation written a thousand years ago. Don't you think that's a bit unbelievable?"

There was a long silence as they stared at one another, neither yielding in their opinion, waiting for the other to concede that the other was right.

"Scarface has got you there, buddy."

"GRAY! You can't say stuff like that-"

"Just read the stupid poem!" Kliff grumbled in defeat, throwing his arms up as he scoffed. "There's no point arguing with someone so stubborn."

Rune smiled as if she had just been complimented, choosing to ignore Gray's gristly nickname and hoping that she hadn't visibly winced at it. She cleared her throat, glancing up and down the torn page before reading it aloud.

 _"His older sister vomited blood, his younger sister vomited fire,_  
 _And the cute Tomino vomited glass beads._

 _Tomino fell into Hell alone;_  
 _Hell is wrapped in darkness and even the flowers don't bloom._  
 _Is the person with the whip Tomino's older sister?_

 _I wonder whose blood is on it?_

 _Spring is coming even in the forest and the stream,_  
 _Even in the seven valley streams of the dark Hell._  
 _The bush warbler in the birdcage, the sheep in the wagon,_  
 _Tears in the eyes of cute Tomino._

 _Cry, bush warbler, toward the raining forest._  
 _He shouts that he misses his little sister—"_ *

She stopped abruptly, feeling her mouth dry and her forearms erupt into goosebumps as she stumbled over the line and had to repeat it more clearly. "This is just a translation."

"Don't finish it!" Faye interjected before she could continue. "This is honestly so stupid! I want nothing to do with any of this, Gray!" With a whirl of her skirt, Faye started to stomp away, her hands balled into fists stuck tight to her sides. "This is scary and… and just dumb!"

"Wh-… hey, don't get mad, Faye! And what if it is real, huh? You're cursed if you just run off!"

"I don't care about a stupid curse! If some ghost comes for me, I'll just… I'll just kill it myself!"

"How will you KILL a GHOST?!"

"I JUST WILL!" Her voice was becoming more and more distant as she left the three of them behind, standing around a stump in the middle of the woods as evening fast approached them.

"Leave her alone Gray, she's freaked out. Don't pick on her," Kliff mumbled, toying with his hair. "Curse or not, that poem is seriously creepy… don't finish reading it, Rune."

If he was frightened, he damn sure wasn't about to admit it. Kliff turned his back as Rune handed the page back to Gray and started to grab the tome he had brought with him. The binding slipped from his fingertips and the book hit the dirt with its pages face down, eliciting a tsk of annoyance from Kliff. "Ick, seriously…" As he picked it back up, tucking it under the crook of his arm, he noticed something that hadn't been there before; perhaps it had fallen from the tented pages. It gave off a pale pink glow, and thoughtlessly he picked it up and turned it over in his palm.

It was some kind of tiny jewel. Half-transparent, exquisitely cut. He opened his mouth to ask if perhaps Faye or Rune had lost an earring before icy realization struck his veins.

It was a bead.

"Hey, Gray?" Kliff turned on his heel to see that his only company was the trees, and despite his many years of playing in the forest they seemed unfamiliar. The other two were gone.

 _'_ _They got spooked and bolted home like Faye,'_ he thought, knowing full well that he would have heard them crunching over leaves. They would have had to be running to be out of sight in the mere seconds it had taken him to turn back around, so logically—

Well, of course that meant that they were hiding. "I'm glad you two are getting along so damn well!" He shouted, hearing not a thing in return. The forest was silent. Not even birds responded. After straining for the sounds of human life and hearing no breathing or rustling, he spoke again. "I'm going home, and you should, too! It's going to be dark!"

Irritated but not wanting to leave without finding them and giving him a piece of his mind, he turned to give the woods one final glance over, squinting in what was becoming twilight.

There was someone—something—a mere 40 paces from where he stood. It was facing with its profile to him, ramrod straight, its body and clothing a mere smudge of black that made any other features indistinguishable. A stark exclamation mark of darkness amongst the browns and reds and greens of the forest.

Except the face. Like a beak, the white nose seemed to stretch impossibly long, curling towards the figure's chest. His mind flickered briefly to images of the plague masks he had learned about in school, when disease ran rampant across the country in the centuries before the Divine Accord.

Whatever it was staring at, it was not him. The one hollow pit that Kliff could see was trained into the woods, and the figure didn't move. It's chest didn't rise and fall, that impossibly long beak didn't twitch.

And as he observed this, as fear began to tug at his lungs and make it slightly harder to breathe, it turned to face him. Slowly and stiffly, as if rotated on a platform. Both eyes trained on him; wide, shiny, and solid black, like a bird's. No arms, only legs, moving towards him one pace at a time as he took a step backwards, unable to pull his eyes away. Somehow he knew that if he looked away, it would move—it would move beyond the laws of the world, and it would be behind him. If he blinked, it would be at his nose when he opened his eyes. He was frozen, only able to force his body to take a step backwards with every step forward it took.

 _'_ _This isn't real,'_ He rationalized again. _'Whatever this is… whatever THAT is, none of this is real.'_

"He does miss his little sister," a voice touched his ear, hot breath accompanied by the stench of wine and rot, burning his neck. That was what broke him from his rigidity and caused him to bolt, that creature be damned. He ran faster than he ever had before, ducking over and under the obstacle course that the woods seemed to craft without a second thought. Branches whipped at his face and pulled at his clothing, gauging small nicks as he snatched away before anything had a chance to truly grab ahold.

There were footfalls like hoofbeats behind him, somehow louder than his own heart and panting breath. Stealing a glance over his shoulder meant locking eyes with that thing again, that beaked creature; he could visualize it following, its beak opened, rows of needle teeth lining its throat.

He closed his eyes, afraid of what he might see, not knowing how many of them there were or if he were going to die, and hit something solid with his full weight, sending him tumbling forward and hitting the ground hard enough to snatch the air from his lungs.

"Kliff?" A familiar voice asked weakly. The hoofbeats were gone; there was only the sound of reality. There was a grunt as the other picked themselves up off the ground. "You almost killed me!"

"Alm!" In seconds Kliff was on his feet again, eyes trained into the woods. He had run out of the trees and close to the field where Mycen kept his sheep. Only the foliage stared back, not a creature to be seen, though the idea of it standing behind a tree and watching him made him want to scream.

 _'_ _It wasn't real. You got yourself worked up because of that stupid poem…'_ his subconscious scolded, and though it was so easy to ignore it seconds ago, now he could feel that there was no arguing it.

"Were you running from something? Do I need to get Grandfather?" Alm followed Kliff's gaze, his left hand going for the iron sword that he so proudly wore.

"It's… it's nothing… thought a mountain lion was after me…" Kliff panted, placing his hands on his knees as he still fought to catch his breath.

"A mountain lion…?" Alm mused, tugging at the collar of his turtleneck as his other hand dropped back down to his side. "Well, I'd believe it. They come after the sheep all the time, and I hear them at night. I used to climb in Grandfather's bed when I was little, their calls sound really human. I think they come down this time of year to hunt."

"If I… wanted a biology lesson on mountain lions… I would have asked for it."

Alm let out a good-natured laugh. "Guess you're not too tired to be wry. Wanna come in?"

The door of Alm's modest house was thrown open, the entrance quickly being crowded by Tobin and Gray.

"Hey, there's the man with the plan! Where did you run off to, huh? You just bolted without a word!" Gray's sloppy half-grin seemed genuine, not that Kliff still believed Gray or Rune had anything to do with what happened. Alm tried to nudge past the two of them, struggling to get into his own house as they stood their ground.

"To enter, thou must feed us more bread!" Tobin chirped, letting out a grunt of pain as Alm forced his way past anyways, crushing Tobin against the door frame in the process. "Our little boy has gotten so strong, Gray…"

"Just when will he stop growing?" Gray cried back, letting out a dramatic sigh. "If he gets any bigger we'll have to take out a mortgage on this house to feed him!"

"Where did Rune go?" Kliff interjected, pushing past them as well. There was always something cozy about Alm's house, and this time was no exception. The smell of fresh break and and weapon oil seemed to halt his growing anxiety. And yet when he closed his eyes he could see it again, the way it was standing and staring at something, the way it turned. The sound of hooves. Closing his eyes even for a second was like inviting it back.

"The damsel twisted her ankle and I carried her home in my big, strong man arms."

"That's literally picking up chicks," Tobin commented, reaching for an entire loaf as Alm wordlessly shoved his hand away.

"Not really. Let's see… You ran towards home, I called you a wuss, she snapped at me, we walked back in awkward silence, I smelled bread, I came in, Tobin smelled bread from across the village, he came in, she kept walking, we ate bread, Alm went outside to pee—" Gray held up his hand as Alm's mouth opened to deny this. "Don't lie Alm, we ALL know you prefer to feel the outside breeze on your-…"

All four fell silent as Mycen stepped in, pulling his silver chest piece over his head and letting it drop to the floor with a sound that seemed to shake the walls. They stared wordlessly as he sat down, reaching for the entire loaf of bread and an entire stick of butter. "Now... who is feeling a breeze on their what?"

"Hey Grandpop," Tobin gave him a dejected look. "Don't you think eating that all yourself is a bit of waste?"

"Frugal as always, Tobin. I suppose I could bare to part with some. Though I know full well that some of you boys have already been working your way through what I baked earlier today, hm?"

"It was all Tobin and Gray, I promise."

"Uh, Alm!? Don't rat out your best friend! Don't I always have your back?" Gray's antics were at an all time high today, it seemed.

"If Alm and Kliff didn't hang around you two, they would never be in trouble," Mycen scolded, not without a hint of affection in his voice. "Then again, without you, I fear they'd both be killed by their own curiosity like newborn kittens."

"I had nothing to do with Kliff setting the house on fire. That was him under the influence of Alm," Tobin added as a disclaimer.

"Aaaand I'm pretty sure that it was Alm who told Kliff the rumor that you can get taller a lot faster if you jerk-…" Gray was in the process of making a crude motion in the air with his fist but faltered as Mycen's disciplinary glare bored holes into him. "…Well… my point is… Kliff sure did get a lot taller really fast." A pained laugh escaped him as Kliff elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to leave a mark.

"Oh yeah, I remember that rumor. You know… I don't think it really worked for me." Alm stated thoughtfully, blissfully unaware of his grandfather's deep sigh of disappointment. "The one about eating chewing gum while you sleep making your voice deeper didn't either. But peanut butter getting gum out of hair? That one is true!"

"Mother Mila… give me the strength to survive these teenage years…"

"Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you something, Mycen!" Gray fished around in his pocket, pulling out the same piece of paper that Rune had read off of not long ago. "This poem is supposedly cursed. Uh, only if you read it out loud! Have you ever heard of it?"

"Let's see." Stroking his trim mustache, Mycen took it from Gray and scanned his wise eyes over the lines, shaking his head. "Can't say that I have. But there's no need to play with curses, boy. Do you know what our world has become? Even the shrine up the road is desecrated by scoundrels, and Terrors are being sighted more and more every day. Playing games that risk making the world worse aren't worth it!"

"He read it out loud! In front of me and Faye! You think curses are real?!" Tobin's voice cracked as his eyes widened, trained on Mycen's harrowed face, anticipating his expanse of knowledge. He could have told them that one of his sheep grew rainbow wool and they would accept it without second thought.

"Now, that isn't what I said. Only that you shouldn't play with danger. Think of the lives that are ruined every day. We've got nobles moving into town because their homes are being pillaged and their lands aren't fertile. Good men being put to death as a show of force. And then boys safe and sound in their comfortable village… playing with curses for a laugh or a scare! It's disrespectful and a bit ungrateful, don't you think?"

Gray scratched his head, pocketing the paper sheepishly. "I guess when you put it that way, you have a point.

"Besides… if you want a good scare, I have plenty of war stories that'll scare you straight."

Alm grimaced. "Those are… a little gristly for my tastes."

"Like what?" Kliff's interest was piqued, though his mind again bounced back to his encounter. Something more grounded, a war story, something real, would make it go away. At least, that was what he was hoping.

"Kliff's a sadist. Something less gory, more scary! Uh, been in any haunted houses?" Tobin leaned his chin on his elbows, brown puppy eyes locked on Mycen. "Heard any creepy sounds, rattling chains, the like?"

"Hm. Folks have always said that they see things in my fields. Scarecrows, even though I have none. Once, Faye's mother came to me at market in a panic, saying she saw a scarecrow step from his perch and go crawling across the sheep field on his belly. I admit that one scared me a bit. All I could think was a bandit slinking up to my house, where right inside I had left Alm working on his homework. I was so worked up by the time I got home that all I could think about was knocking an intruder's head clear off his shoulders, but there was no sign of anyone."

"Ugh…" Tobin shuddered, folding his arms over his chest as if warding off a chill. "That's a lot to take in."

"Being as I am, it's easy to imagine someone always after your livelihood. I think to myself as I close the curtains up at night, what if I find someone's face pressed to the glass, looking in at me? Or what if I go to get water in the dark and don't realize someone is sitting in the dark of my living room, waiting for me to go back to bed? Every shadow becomes your worst enemy when you have experienced war."

"…Grandfather…" Alm mumbled softly, staring at his hands. "You know that I'm strong enough to protect you, right?"

Mycen laughed; it was a bleak sound, one that left all four of them silent. "It's not me that I'm worried after, Alm. But I'll thank you boys to try and stay safe. Your parents will, too. Zofia is more cursed by the day."

* * *

 _"The crows are calling, the mother is screaming, her baby is missing, where could he be…"_

Tiny scaled talons latched onto the back of the marble throne, hopping closer to the corpse that sat in it. A small, tinny child's voice came from its beak, the tip of which vanished into a mangled head of strawberry-blonde hair, dyed red at the roots with what might have been blood. A head wound had perhaps.

 _"The mother is crying, the sister is lying, oh, where could he be…"_ After speaking the bird turned its head to direct one black eye onto the figure, waiting for movement. Finally the corpse stirred, an ironic death rattle passing as life moved back into the figure's lungs. Yellow eyes, ringed black and red with rot, rolled towards the bird as it took one hop away, fluttering its wings to remain balanced.

"That's a good girl, Adella." These words were clear, despite the timeworn cracks in his dried tongue. "What of mother? What of father? Do they miss their son?"

The bird only stared, as if trying to translate his words from his language to hers. He repeated himself, slower, more deliberate this time.

"What of my mother? What of my father? Do they miss their defiled son? Do they carry the cage?"

 _"Cage!_ " The bird called, as if something in his nonsensical statement rang through to her. _"The father is dying, the mother is lying, but she'll be dead so soon! Maybe before father, if she tarries any longer.."_

"Duma kindly gives us cloak and guidance, it is only fair to repay his kindness. Perhaps it is time to wake up."

 _"Wake up!"_ The bird parroted, hopping onto his shoulder as he rose from his throne, years of dust crumbling and falling to the stone floor. With great effort he raised a skeletal arm, one tangled in hair that reached to his thighs, and touched impossibly long, crooked fingers to the wound atop his skull. They came away dyed a deep maroon.

"Still bleeding," he mused, the singsong canter of his voice no longer heard. "Always bleeding."

* * *

 ** _*this is an excerpt from a translation of a poem called Tomino's Hell, I wasn't sure how to cite it since it seems to be a rough English translation. The original was apparently found in a book of Saizo Yaso's Japanese poetry in 1919. I do not claim this!_**

_A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one, I think. I won't make any comments on the man and the bird, but I would love to hear what any of you think of this... experience? Encounter? Excerpt? Oh I have a midterm in an hour okay enough jabbering it's time to go-_

 _There's a poll on my profile about which canon characters you'd like to see, check it out, vote, I'll do what I do. Thank you to CelestialSylvia for the review, I always love reading what you have to say! Okay, I'll proofread more when I get home bye wish me luck it's about police work and stuff I pray that I pass byee-_


	11. Who the Hell is Rundeltia?

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

 **Who the Hell is Rundeltia?  
**

* * *

Kliff's fist faltered in the air in front of the door to Rune's home, dropping back down to his side as he puffed his cheeks out with a huff. He turned heel and started to walk away, but the twirled right back around and raised his fist once more. The sun had barely started to rise, but he hadn't slept a bit the previous night, certain that the beaked thing in the woods would be pressed against his window. Mycen's stories hadn't helped, that much was certain.

Just before his knuckles rapped on the door, it opened, leaving him standing with his hand hanging in the air as he finally met who he felt safe presuming was Rune's mother. She was short and frail as opposed to Rune's tall and robust, looking at him with blue eyes set in a porcelain face. If she was old enough to be a mother, she certainly didn't look it. With her long eyelashes and heart shaped mouth, her doll-like features were something that a man could easily fall for. And then she frowned, bringing to her face a full forty years of sadness, and the illusion of beauty seemed to flicker like a fading dream.

"Ah, hello… I was… uh…" He had no idea why it was suddenly so difficult to explain himself.

"Yes, I believe I know who you are." She answered for him in a voice that was frigid. "My Rundeltia speaks highly of a friend. That is, on the incredibly rare occasion that she even comes home."

"Who the hell is Rundeltia?" He blinked rapidly, completely confused. Was this the wrong house? The woman blinked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly before her mouth tugged into a smile. It unsettled Kliff; it wasn't exactly a friendly expression when it was worn upon such a wan face.

"You don't even know my daughter's name?" She stepped aside and motioned her arm through the door frame, offering him in. "You may call me Maria. Would you like to join me for tea? Don't think I haven't seen you before, shuffling about outside. Rundeltia never comes home, with the exception of showering and stealing food each morning before sunrise. Now that you know that, perhaps you'll stop pining about."

His eyes stared into the foyer, noticing the smell of cinnamon wafting from somewhere within. Her tone was insulting, and intentionally so. "I can catch her some other time. I should be goi-…"

"Nonsense! This house is absurdly out of the way. You might as well take a moment off your feet and wait." It was quite clear that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "It's been quite a while since I've been able to have a chat with an intellectual. I can't even bend the ear of my daughter." She turned to walk back inside, waving a hand over her shoulder as she turned her back to him. "Come, shut the door behind you, I can hardly stand the stench of the village. In the morning, dew seems to exonerate the cow patties and filthy sheep's wool. It's nothing like the oil and brick of the capital. You did know that, didn't you? Brick has its own scent. It's why I demanded that if we live here, the house at least be made of brick. Wood invites pests and the like."

"Uh, right…" He followed her reluctantly, pausing to sweep his eyes over the photos on the wall. Most were of a man garbed in red, a Rigelian general from the looks of it. His hair, though tucked back neatly, was a pale champagne color, curly and threatening to escape the efforts of the photographer to make the subject look as professional as possible. His eyes were a bright and knowing hazel.

"That is my husband, Lord Oskar." Kliff jumped at her words, embarrassed to see that she had caught him staring. "Quite stunning, isn't he? There isn't a more beautiful man that walks this world, save for Prince Marth, and he is of another kingdom. It's fair to say that my dear had no competition."

"He looks…"

"Like Rundeltia, I know." The woman interrupted Kliff, though it seemed she knew exactly what he had been about to say. "She was his child in every way. Sometimes it's almost painful to hear her speak in her father's cadence, as if she borrowed it with the intent to never return it. Rundeltia is also just as furtive and stubborn as her father, though she could never hope to match his grandeur. Oskar was born to be a hero through and through, not some pauper's knight. She believes I do not know what she does, but I certainly do. And if you've anything to do with it, know that I don't approve." Her thin lips were set in a fine line as she eyed Kliff, her glare accusatory.

Kliff blinked at the woman, at a loss for words. He wasn't sure what compelled him to follow her inside in the first place, except for sheer, unbridled curiosity. But now she was leveling him with a deadly stare, waiting for him to confess to something shady, as if this entire meeting were an interrogation. "I've never gotten into any kind of trouble, if that's what you mean?" His response was in the form of a confused question.

Her glare softened only for a second as she turned back towards the kitchen, busying herself with her attention focused on the stove. "If you don't know, then I won't be the one to tell you. Perhaps you don't know Rundeltia at all. Though I'm sure you already know she's a girl who doesn't like to share her business until she's fit to burst from withholding it. So you know nothing of my family?"

 _'I've known her all this time and have never even seen you, so you might be right about that…'_ Kliff thought to himself, standing a fair distance away as Maria found two teacups and placed them on the table. They were a stark white porcelain lined with gold, rubies dotting the curve of the handle. _'Is it a sin to actually drink out of that?'_

Apparently it wasn't, as she was dropping a teabag into each cup and fetching the golden kettle from her stovetop. The thought of sitting across from this lady and sipping at tea that cost more than all of his school books was almost anxiety inducing, and it would be much easier to just escape.

"Actually, can I… use your restroom?" He inched away from the table as she gave him a glare of disbelief from under her dark lashes. Shaking her head as if he had committed a crime, Maria waved a pallid hand towards the staircase arching out of the darkness of the den. It seemed she was adverse to light in every way, if the darkness of her house were any indication.

"You aren't well versed in the proper etiquette of teatime, are you? Go on ahead, and don't touch anything. And wash your grimy hands before and after!"

"Yes ma'am, fine!" He darted past her, trotting up the stairs and away from her oppressive aura. This whole house, quaint as it was, was brimming with items that only rich folk could appreciate, things that made him feel out of place. Just the little bit of space he had put between the two of them removed a heavy weight from his chest.

The bathroom door stood open, revealing stacks of towels teethed with lace and porcelain as white as the teacups at the kitchen table. There was also a large window, conveniently already open, a perfect escape. Instead of bothering to push the door open all the way, his eyes wandered and fell to a pair of rugged boots outside one of the only two other doors in the hallway. Unable to resist, he slowly twisted the handle and peered one eye inside, scanning from left to right. He was hit with the scent of cherry blossoms, apple, and something else, like the earthy scent of black tea. Without a doubt, that alone made it obvious to him that it was Rune's room.

Checking over his shoulder and straining his ears for the sounds of Rune's mother, he pushed the door open and inched inside. Bookshelves lined the walls on three sides and made the room look significantly smaller because of it. The shelves were teeming with hardback copies arranged in an obsessive order, not a speck of dust on their well-worn bindings. Feeling as if he were intruding (which, he admitted shamefully to himself, he was), Kliff shuffled across the hardwood floor towards a mahogany desk, one littered with parchment paper and streaks of black, perhaps ink or charcoal. His eyes flitted over an unmade bed, an open window, a pile of books that was dangerously close to tipping over. The one on top laying open was one that he recognized as his own, one on Rigenlian history that she had borrowed at some point. It seemed to have gotten more use than it ever had in his care.

Curious enough to be now unashamedly nosy, he shuffled the papers on her desk, lifting one after the other. They were drawings; black and white sketches of the village, her own house, the town's well, Mycen's sheep field, the market in the middle of the day. There were people as well, messier though the attention to detail was obvious despite the fingerprints and smears of the charcoal's dust. A boy with a sword in his left hand, perhaps Alm? Rune's mother, sitting at the table with her head in her hands, a dark shadow hiding her features. A thin man with curly hair dressed in armor, a black haired woman in a kimono with her arm outstretched. There was one of the man on the wall in the foyer: Rune's father, though he was smiling in the sketch. Beneath this was an envelope, and from beneath the other papers he could read a KLI in the place for an addressee.

That was simply too tempting.

He nudged the other papers off of it tentatively, as if leaving fingerprints behind would incriminate him. Yes, it certainly was made to him, and it was unsealed. He opened the top flap, seeing folded papers tightly packed with words written in a script that he only recognized as Rune's due to her penchant to leave notes in the bindings of all of his books. The first time she had done it, he considered it a crime against humanity and wanted to beat her over the head with the book for it, but she shifted to leaving scraps of paper stuck in every page as opposed to writing in them. Still, it defeated the point when she wrote "hey, read this!" and then underlined whatever it was that she meant for him to read directly onto the page itself.

But this, it was crammed with hurried scrawl like a research paper, words along the folded crease scribbled out in exchange for others. He had finally let his curiosity direct his fingers and pull the papers free when a loud noise from the hall caught his attention.

"Young man! I would appreciate it if you'd get out of my house! An unexpected guest will be visiting soon, and I'd prefer there not be a boy with a stomachache keeping me from cleaning up!" Maria's voice caused his heart to lurch painfully; her voice seemed to be coming from the bottom of the stairs. He had completely forgotten to silently escape. "I apologize for cutting your tea short, but I have to get things together for a luncheon with a… a friend."

Spooked and sure that she was going to trot upstairs and catch him, he dropped the letter back on the desk and moved as catlike as possible, sliding past the door while trying his hardest not to risk the hinges squeaking. He peered around to the bottom of the staircase to make sure that Rune's mother was gone before stomping down them. She was back in the kitchen again, much to his relief.

"Perhaps you can come back another time, I would love to learn more of the customs of common-…" she caught herself, instead taking both teacups and dropping them into her sink without thinking. Kliff winced at the clinking of porcelain, cringing as she uttered a word that would get him slapped by his mother (though it was a favorite of Gray's). The pile of dishes in the sink gave him the impression that she had no idea how to actually wash them on her own.

"Do you need any help?" He wasn't sure why he asked; he had no intent to help and didn't want to. It was almost a relief when she waved him away without another word, clearly at her limit for pretending to be nice. Without another word, Kliff let himself out, snagging another glance at the smiling portrait of the nobleman on the wall before meeting the blinding sun outside. He squinted his eyes; he hadn't realized that there hadn't been a single light on in the house except for distressed daylight through heavy windows.

"Did you enjoy that experience?" Blinded as he was, he didn't need to see to recognize Rune's odd, articulate accent. He blinked rapidly, orange spots running across his corneas as he picked up the scent of coffee.

"I, uh… experience, yeah," he grumbled, moving away from the cobblestone stairs, finally able to see again. "Geez, it's dark as hell in your house. Are you both vampires?"

Rune blinked once, taking a sip of her coffee from the village café's recognizable paper cup. Steam obscured her face as she gave him a peculiar smile. "I don't know, I'm never home. You're one to talk, my pale little friend."

Kliff swatted her hand away as she pinched his cheek, glancing over his shoulder at the open door that seemed to swallow the light. "I'm taller than you, at least," he snapped, following her as she started to walk away from the lonely house. It struck him that she was wearing gauntlets and greaves made of a thin, flat leather. "What's the-… what are you wearing? What were you even doing?"

"Hunting. I killed a boar." She stated simply.

"You need armor for a boar?"

"Tusks."

"Then where's the boar?" He took it from her lack of a quick response that she didn't have an answer to that.

"Don't you think I should be the one bombarding you with nosy questions? Just what were you doing in my house?" She actually sounded annoyed with him, quite a challenging feat.

"I didn't know I had to give you a reason for my every move." He snarked, nearly trotting to match her quick pace. "Your step-mom is… very beautiful."

"I'm glad you had a good time. She's single, just in case you were going to ask that next." Rune's tone had soured, her pace quickening evermore so. "Not a man has met Maria that doesn't throw down their arms and lavish her perfect porcelain face." Coffee sloshed out of the cup and over her hand, but if it burned, she didn't say so. "That included my father."

"I thought I was being nice…" Kliff sighed, feeling a stitch growing in his side. "Could you stop practically running? Do you have somewhere to be? Or are you mad at me?"

Her gait slowed to that of a normal walk as her furrowed brow returned to normal. "I'm not mad…" The grumble in her tone said otherwise, but pointing it out would only set her to dramatically denying that she was angry until he accepted it. Pursuing the accusation was never worth it with someone so adamant.

"Anyways, she talked almost exclusively about your father. You really look like him, from what I can tell. Especially…" He stopped himself, feeling his face grow hot. "You both have… uh, a smallish, pointy… with the sun freckles… forget it."

"What on earth are you talking about? Small?!" Subtly she folded her arms across her chest.

"Ugh, don't put me on the spot! You have a cute nose." He turned his glare down at his feet, face burning fiercely. "Stop smiling like an idiot, Rune."

She dropped her arms with a relieved laugh, thankful that the conversation hadn't taken an uncomfortable turn. Instead her face lit up, the aforementioned dusting of pale freckles vanishing into her reddening features. "I-I have certainly never heard that before…"

"You're awful at taking compliments, really."

"Was that a compliment?"

He ignored her backhanded remark, itching to interrogate her on other things that Maria had said. "She really doesn't like whatever it is you're doing when you aren't home. And she thought it involved me. What have you been doing? How come you never go home?" He stopped walking, hit in the face with a sudden epiphany. "Wait… are you a prostitute?"

"Ex _cuse_ me?!"

"Why else would you be gone all night? And you didn't even tell _me_ about it. That's the only thing I can figure that you would want to keep secret from a boy…"

"Do I _look_ like a prostitute to you?!"

"How would I know? I've never seen one before! Besides, it's not like they'd dress like one during the day, so how would I know—"

"Enough! You'd best stop before you bury yourself in a hole that you'll never be able to climb out of." She hissed, jabbing at his chest with a dangerous accusatory finger poke. He cleared his throat, cutting his eyes aside.

"Ow. Frankly, it's not my business how you make your living…"

"Kliff…" Rune pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off an incoming migraine. "I'm not a harlot. Though I'll thank you for assuming such as opposed to _anything_ else. It truly speaks volumes."

"Would you at least explain? The more I know you, the less I actually know. What are you actually up to?"

"It's quite a mouthful. And besides, curiosity killed the cat."

"Yeah, well, satisfaction brought it back. I think you owe it to me to tell me. You're clearly up to no good." He shifted to the arch of the grassy hill and sat. "If you don't tell me, I'll stay right here. And be devoured by coyotes come nightfall." He narrowed his eyes into an adamant glare. "And it'll be your fault."

"…Stubborn brat…"

"My mother will probably wonder what happened to my body…" He deadpanned. "And you'll have been the last person to see me."

"Will you-! Alright, fine!" She shuffled about for a moment, unsure of where to start. Defeated, she sat down beside him, fidgeting hands turning one of the rings on her left hand around her finger in circles. A full minute of silence passed. "Where do I even start…"

"At the beginning."

"Let's see… my grandfather on my father's side was a noble of Rundeltia, a small city-state on the coast of the border between Zofia and Rigel, along an area known as the bastion of the Divine Decree." Rune paused to clear her throat, fussing her arms out of the thin gauntlets and setting them on the grass.

"That's what Maria called you."

"Indeed. It's where I got my name. My father was raised there, and it's where he also met my birth mother. Unfortunately, these borders were the breeding grounds for witches; Duma Faithful could easily abduct farmers, their daughters, and the impoverished from their homes and have a quick trip back to Rigel to perform their experimental rituals. Do you… believe me?" She trailed off, hunting Kliff's face for any signs that he doubted her.

He rolled his eyes, anxious for her to continue. "Why wouldn't I?"

Rune hitched a sigh of relief. "I wasn't sure, I've never told anything this before. I'm still always surprised by how much Zofians reject the very existence of the darkness of Duma Faithful. I'm sure there are good people who follow Duma, but corruption runs rampant. I suppose that could be said of any religion."

He cleared his throat impatiently, urging her to continue.

"Right, sorry. My birth mother was one of many who met this fate. She was taken in the night and came back a couple of days later, rotting before our very eyes. At first she didn't try to hurt us, but was just… off. Empty. My father resorted to going into the den of Duma's darkness with the intention of begging for her soul back. He offered his own life, and it was rejected. Of course, someone who has turned can't be turned back. As punishment…" she stopped again, shaking her head.

"Anyways we the two of us left. He married Maria, who had just lost her husband. Maria used to—and still does, I suppose—hate me. I suppose I can't fault her for it. She married for love and money, he married to stifle the pain of what he had lost. We were never a close family, but my father told me to say that Maria was my birth mother, and he built a name for himself all over again despite having such a lofty rank beforehand."

She paused, brushing at a stray invisible hair, something that she focused on so hard that she had to stop talking to do it. Her gaze was still tilted towards the river, not daring to look up.

"Any man who could stand on par with Desaix in terms of political power was a threat. They hid weapons and conspiracy papers around our home, desecrated Rigelian and Zofian monuments in the guise of his name, and sent spies into our home to look for any infraction possible against Desaix. I never knew about any of this.

Killing him was out of the question, as everything that they hated about his title would just be passed to me, then my step-mother, then her next of kin… locking him away meant preserving their enemy safely within their confines as opposed to just making a new one. I believe they knew the extent of my hatred towards their injustice. It's a wonder I didn't meet the same fate as my father." She paused, taking in another breath. "In the middle of the night, three Zofian soldiers broke into our home and took him into custody. One of them was in the right mind, at least. He saw the farce for what it was and brought Maria and I here, to safety. And that's that."

Kliff absorbed this tentatively, pulling at blades of grass as he calculated discrepancies in her tale. "There's obviously more to it than that. You've been gone more and more, and I've noticed for a while now that you've been acting off. You've always been kind of a worrywart but now you're… I don't know, really."

"There is one more thing." Rune nodded, though it wasn't particularly in agreement. Only moments before she seemed to be talking about her past with a detached recital, and now she was hesitant. "For years now I've done mercenary work for a Zofian soldier at the prison who claims to be on my father's side. That's where I go, and that's how I provide for Maria and I."

"What do you mean by mercenary work?" Kliff squinted suspiciously.

"They would give me the name of a prisoner or criminal that was spotted anywhere near here, and I would take care of them on the promise that my father would be treated fairly. When I was injured and couldn't work, I sent a letter informing them that I had died. I was afraid that if they knew I was useless, they would come eliminate me while I was regaining the strength to go rescue my father."

"You're planning to just walk into your own death, from the sound of it. You really plan to walk into a Zofian prison and break out a nobleman with your own strength alone? It's suicide."

"I know. But this is what I've worked towards ever since moving to Ram. Sometimes I think about how thankful I am to have made a friend like you, but then I think about my father and the sacrifice he made, and I feel disgusted with myself every time I catch myself enjoying my life." She didn't look up, perhaps knowing that her words weren't easy to digest. "I honestly shouldn't have spoken to you when I met you, but for some reason, I did. And when I came back, I don't know why, but I did it again. It was foolish of me."

Kliff could feel the first buzz of anger batting at the back of his head; a dull, pestering upset as his chest tightened. "Oh, great. Good to know that you regret knowing me. What kind of father would want his daughter to be lonely and miserable? You can't actually think he feels that way, not unless he was some kind of total bastard."

"He would never ask me to save him." She responded stonily. "But it is my responsibility."

He elicited a dark chuckle, one that was almost scathing. "Brilliant. So, assuming you even could break into a prison and get him out, then what? Then you would be a wanted fugitive and your family would constantly be on the run. What kind of quality of life is that? At least right now you can thank him for his sacrifice and build a new life. Any real parent would rather die than see his kid miserable, right? That's why they go first."

"Why do you sound so angry? It has nothing to do with you. I'm just telling you what you asked." She snapped.

"I'm angry because even you know that it's destined to fail. You're not the only one affected if you were to die like an idiot, you know. You can't just decide to throw it away on your own. I'm not kidding, don't even think about it."

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, though it passed through a smile. "I know that you're right, but I'm also not going to let my father rot because one person might miss me. I should be the one locked away. But at your behest, you won't hear of it again."

"Fine by me. I've never understood people who think they owe the universe something. You're not going to catch me running off to save the world instead of my own skin." Kliff stood up and dusted off his clothes. Of course, he had no way of knowing that very soon he and his friends would be doing just that. Irony and fate sometimes teamed up to write a co-authored comedy/tragedy. "Look, I didn't mean to sound like such a prick, it's just… you scared me. I don't know what I'd do if—" He stopped himself, grateful to a rooster's call to break any lull his abrupt silence might have caused. "Well, your father can blame me for talking you out of this. He lived his life, right? Shut up and live yours."

She chuckled at this, drawing in a deep breath of country air, her eyes sizing him up as she considered whether or not his statement was out of line. If it was, she made no notion of it. "A life among sheep and pigs. My, my. For one to speak to strongly about my father, whom everyone showered with respect… he would have found you interesting, bucking up to him to sputter your bullish opinion. I'm sad that in no world would you two ever get to meet."

A smirk was plastered onto his face, one that was a mixture of smug attitude and some kind of twisted pride at her comment. "You think he would have hated me, huh? That's a good impression."

"Not at all. I think he would have adored you."

"I'm flattered." He chided, watching her rise to her feet and stretch her arms over her head. A frown dropped to his face as he folded his arms, looking as if he had more to say. He had never known any of that. Someone that he considered a close friend had technically been a stranger. And now that he did know some of it, it was all to clear that there was more that she didn't share. "…I don't even know your favorite color."

"What?" She laughed, though it dissolved into a worried frown at the angry look set on his features. "Oh, I see. Kliff, I understand if you feel that you can no longer trust me-"

"Mine's maroon."

She cocked an eyebrow, finding his sharp tone at odds with such an everyday, non-threatening statement. "I like dark blue and green."

"Fair enough."

* * *

"DISGUSTING! Get it off of me AT ONCE!" Clair's shriek was loud enough to wake the dead, had Terrors not already been prowling the Deliverance Hideout as it was. She thrust her hand in Python's face, rousing him from a nap. A nap that he was taking while standing. It was a unique skill.

"Hnngh… uh… what in the-…" he blinked sleep from his eyes, unsure of what he was supposed to be looking at. Clair's flawless palm was open at his face, manicured nails all aglow.

"THE FOUL GOURD'S INNARDS!" She screamed, flapping her fingers at his nose. "Underneath my fingernails! Remove it at once, knave!"

"Oh, yer still workin' on that punkin' pie, huh? I've told you, Clive's not gonna want a bite of that no matter how many time you remake it." Clair ignored him, her other arm thrown dramatically over her eyes so that she wouldn't have to look at the sight of her own hands dirtied. Python, with no hesitation, licked the paste from her hand with a thoughtful head bob. "Damn, not bad! Maybe more sugar, that pumpkin's so big he's kind of… eh, earthy, I guess?"

"D-Did you just?!" Clair sucked in a shocked gasp, her face rising in color. "You just put my fingers in your filthy mouth!"

"To be fair, you put 'em in my face covered in food…" he grumbled. Whatever Clair was going to shriek in response was interrupted by the door of the military sized kitchen flying open and cracking against the concrete wall behind it. The frame was immediately filled by Forsyth's bulk, verdant and radiant as usual.

"HO, LADY CLAIR!" He boomed, snapping a salute. "TWO MORE STATIONS HAVE BEEN PURGED OF TERRORS AT YOUR COMMAND, SIRE!" His green armor was covered in foul smelling viscera. Oblivious to it, he inched closer to the smell of pie, folding his arms behind his back.

"Please wash your… self… before touching any of the food, sir," Silque gently warned, placing herself between Forsyth and the counter as a human barrier. "Your hard work is greatly appreciated, but you must not risk contaminating everyone's meal."

"Yes ma'am!" He saluted again, eyes following a counter full of real, non de-hydrated, actual food fit for human consumption. "If this doesn't get Sir Clive back into peak condition, there will be no true remedy for his lack of strength."

"He will be fighting fit within the month, though at Alm's suggestion, returning to Ram Village until he recovers is crucial. Especially should we be able to catch Lord Mycen along the way. The morale boost would be-…"

"Please, let's not talk about this…" Clair interrupted Silque, her voice wavering. "We are not going to Ram Village to deposit a broken Clive. We are going to wait out the Rigelian winter so that we may strike at full strength! He is… he is not a burden, despite his injuries!"

Silque blinked, her mouth an 'o' of surprise. "Lady Clair, I did not mean to insinuate or offend-"

"Well, if you were a proper Saint, you would have been able to heal him already!" Clair's haughty tone returned. She delivered a hateful, teary-eyed glare at Silque before rushing out, wiping pumpkin off of her own hands. The door slammed, this time closed instead of open.

"Yiiiikes," Python commented, giving Silque a hard pat on the back. "Don't stress it, girlie. Clair's not brilliant, but she's no dumb broad either. She knows yer doin' all you can, so don't take it to heart. Rich folks like that just can't handle things that money can't immediately repair."

"Lady Clair does have a point. My staff cannot cure venom once it sets in, but had I realized that Sir Clive was nursing such an infected wound, treatment would have been simple. To think that a man may die from my own negligence…" Silque lamented, her eyes dropping to the deflated pumpkin pie that Clair had been crafting for her deathly ill brother. It only succeeded in making the saint wince. "Only the Mother can save him now, I fear."

Python rolled his eyes, scratching at his neck with dirty fingernails. "So what? It's just Sir Clive. D'ya really think we can't go on without him? I mean, what does he really do? Do we even count that as a casualty? Big boy in the way bites the dust… jus' leaves more room for Luke and 'Syth to get around in these narrow ass halls, yeah?" He laughed at his own joke, though he meant not a word of it.

"Python! Now isn't the time for your brand of dark humor!"

"Hey, don't worry! Clive can bunk in with my folks and my Ma's soup will have him 100% healed in no time flat!" Gray let himself in, tossing a ripe orange up into the air and catching it in his waiting palm like a baseball. "I can't believe we're actually going home, though. Maybe Alm got homesick?" As usual, Tobin was only a few paces behind him, his fine forehead lined with worry.

"Nope, tactically it makes perfect sense. Ram Village is one of the only places east of the Greatport that hasn't been ravaged. It's also a flat trek with little difficult terrain, and the Deliverance Hideout was right at the midpoint between the sluice gate and here. At this time of year, trying to enter Rigel would be the death of our horses to the elements. And if we're walking into Rigel… I think he wants to let us say goodbye to our families, and wants to catch Mycen at home." Python and Silque gave each other wide eyed stares of shock; for Tobin to speak so profoundly was rather rare. "It's harsh but it makes a lot of sense… and I think Clive encouraged him to do it. Uh, Sir Clive."

"You have the makings of a tactician yet!" Forsyth laughed good naturedly, his stomach letting out a loud growl even heard through his armor. He turned to a massive bowl of diced, boiled potatoes and considered striking, but Silque pulled the bowl into her bosom and moved it to safety.

"If you are all going to stand about and chatter, please at least offer a hand."

Tobin looked at the pathetic pumpkin pie, wondering if there would be any way to salvage it. There wasn't. Instead, he fished around for a can of pumpkin. It wouldn't be as fresh or delicious, but Clair had been going on about making one for Clive from the moment he fell ill. Wordlessly he dumped her attempt in the trash and set about looking for a dough to make the crust with.

"Tobin's a man on a mission," Python quipped, sitting well and far enough away to make it clear to Silque that he had no intention of helping. He watched Tobin mix flour, salt, sugar, water, powdered egg, and whatever other baking mysteries it took to make a fine dough. The archer was hopelessly lost on what he was doing, but he sure as hell seemed to be doing it with knowing hands. "Check this out. This man's got magic fingers!"

"Oh yeah, Tobin can cook up a storm!" His cheery tone was back. "My Ma and Pa worked sunrise to sunset, and I had mouths to feed! You learn to cook with what you've got. Gray can hunt you down something and gut it, and Kliff may have recipes memorized, but it takes a real man like me to do it all! Hunting, dishes, laundry, cooking, homework, stitching, sewing, smooth talking! And I can shoot an arrow, to boot."

"And usually miss…" Gray added under his breath.

"That makes me want to try harder! I need a secondary job!" Forsyth chirped, his working drive ignited.

"You can be a tutor? Kliff got kicked off that spot. 'Ugh, why don't you get it? Get out of my face, I can't teach you'!" Gray mocked Kliff's voice with an accuracy that was almost scary, disinterested expression and all. "Plus, I heard that your folks were teachers."

"That's true, but I never hit the book as hard as my father. If I wanted to teach, I'd just have to relearn everything about history and math from scratch…" His enthusiasm seemed to wilt away.

"Don't sound so disheartened already, it was just a suggestion. Why don't you watch Tobe and learn how to bake like a real man?" Gray had only been kidding, but the knight was all for it. He crowded up to Tobin's elbow, watching closely over his shoulder.

"I am your humble pupil, ready to learn and ready to serve!"

"Whoah… I guess I could show you? I'm just putting dough in the pan to make a crust. Do you want to-… holy hell, you reek! What is that, Eau de Corpse?!" Tobin gagged, covering his nose.

"I was eliminating Terrors so that we can safely bunk without being atop one another. I also readied the correct number of cots and laundered blankets that we had in store. Then as I was sweeping, more Terrors emerged from a crypt, so I built a brick wall to keep them in there and tore down a wall between two barracks so that we can all be close by should more try to show up. I also took all of the feathers plucked from the chickens that Silque prepared and made as many feather pillows as possible for the ladies to put under the curve of their backs while they sleep! These cots can be horridly uncomfortable… Anyways, my point is, I'm covered in rotting flesh and spoiled blood."

Gray's mischievous eyes were dappled with exasperation. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, leaning on the table. "Forsyth… you make me feel inferior to you in every way."

"Hah, you, Gray? Imagine how I feel! I don't do jack squat and I always end up being compared to him. Be more like Forsyth, act more like Forsyth!" Python mused, letting out a huge yawn.

"Perhaps you wouldn't be in such a position if you would just try to accomplish anything! You'd be showered in praise just for brushing your own teeth!"

The blue-haired archer was flabbergasted. "What?! I brush 'em! It's the flossing part that's a hassle. Besides, all you gotta do is swish around some water real rough in your mouth and it does the same thing."

Silque silenced them by bringing a plate of fresh bread to the table and placing it down with a resounding thud, as if she intended to catch their attention. "Perhaps we could stop talking about such things and enjoy a meal together, yes?" That was all it took to have Gray, Forsyth, and Python gather around and become dead quiet, as if she had taken their tongues away just by putting food near them. As she turned to do the same with the potatoes, she caught a glimpse of Tobin's elbow out of the corner of one ochre eye, and moved closer.

"Is something the matter? You're shaking, Tob-…" Silque's gentle voice stopped as her eyes met the profile of his face. His eyes were glazed with tears, though he made no show of intention to let them fall or let the others know. Silque placed her palm between his shoulder blades, lowering her voice to a near whisper.

"I really am going to have to choose between my family and my country, aren't I? How am I going to be able to march in this army knowing I'll probably be seeing the faces of my siblings for the last time?"

"The decision is yours to make, Tobin."

"If I die, they go hungry… how can I choose Alm knowing that? He doesn't even see me anymore. He doesn't understand what I'm fighting for. What baggage does he have?"

Silque was at a loss, her heart moved by his words. Full lips parted to comfort him, to say anything to help, as was her job. Gray's sudden shout stopped her, calling Tobin's attention. He moved away so swiftly it was as if he was revolted by her touch.

"Toooobe, get over here! Your bread fetish is going to go wild over this!" Gray called, snapping Tobin from his stupor. He batted his tears away, forcing a laugh as he turned his back to Silque.

"Just because you don't understand our relationship doesn't mean it's a fetish! Bread and I have something special!"

Their loud, playful cajoling filled the sound of the mess hall, bringing the rest of the Deliverance off of their post to the sound and smell of food. All save for Clive, who was most likely unconscious beneath the statue of Mila, wracked with shudders and agony as he waited for his illness to either claim him or free him. And Clair and Mathilda, who were likely at his side, praying feverishly for his recovery.

* * *

 _ **Updated: 3/10/2018**_ _  
_


	12. Should Have Been A Scholar

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Should Have Been a Scholar**

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 _quick note: publishing before I do any editing, I just wanted to get the chapter up and then I'll really mega-proofread by tomorrow. Just a small disclaimer to please bear with any typos. Also, future me, please don't forget to erase this after you proofread, idiot. It's very late, I have work tomorrow, but I wanted to wriiiite._

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 **396 VC**

"You're barging into a den of criminals. It's important that you do not let your guard down, but we are not here to kill them. Raid them, take back what they've stolen from Zofia, and take Oskar Melfia into custody. Is that understood? If your life is in danger, then retaliate with the necessary force."

"Sire!" The trio of Zofian soldiers snapped a salute at their superior, who performed an about face and left their company. The three helmeted soldiers exchanged a glance before looking up at the manor that loomed before them, towering in the dark like an imposing dungeon.

"There is a light in in the west wing, do you see that?"

"Indeed. The man inside is one who has been hatching a plot to assassinate King Lima. Supposedly, he's drawn power from the Duma Faithful. I've heard that his wife and daughter are witches, so stay as sharp as possible!"

The soldier on the left tilted his head as the one on the right shook his. "What the hell are you talking about? I heard that this man is a blue blood with a pristine reputation. I heard that he slandered General Desaix and this is just reta-…"

"Silence!" The middle soldier barked again, causing both of his allies to jump to attention. "Jamieson, you and I will apprehend the criminal. Forsyth, you immediately look for the Melfian Crest. They've made it very clear that it is to be taken into custody."

"Understood sir, but… why the crest?"

There was a stiff silence as the middle soldier turned, stepping toe to toe with his inferior, his heavy, angry breathing exacerbated by the echo of his helmet. "How long have you been a knight?"

"F-four days, sire!"

"That's right. And how many missions have you completed?"

"This is my first, sire!"

"Then I don't believe you have the authority to question anything, do you understand? You do what is told of you, or you crawl home to your shit-poke village, both you and that useless maggot Python! Neither of you deserve to be here, but this is your chance. If you mess this up, your head and career are on the chopping block! Is that understood?"

"Yes sir, my apologies, sir!" He snapped a salute, feeling his knees wobble weakly. He had worked far too hard to be ousted on his first assignment, that much was for sure. Forsyth wasn't naïve enough to think that he would be guarding the king immediately; a few unpleasant side jobs would come along the way. He had known that, but still nerves picked at him, nerves and an uneasy feeling that he couldn't shake.

"You're bein' so harsh on the kid, Byron." Jamieson, a soldier with just a few years more experience than Forsyth, grinned at him from beneath his helmet as the apparently dubbed Byron rapped his gauntlet against the door three times, ignoring his comment.

All three of them were holding their breath, not sure what to anticipate. There was no telling if they were about to fight for their lives or initiate a man-hunt; he could have fled with his family. As seconds passed, Byron cleared his throat in preparation to shout, but gave one more hard knock. Before he could announce himself, the door opened and a homely light spilled out, illuminating the back of a man as he leaned his head out the door.

Forsyth hadn't known what to expect, but before him was a trim man decorated in a blue velvet blazer and white slacks, both embellished in the finest gold trimmings. Deep into the evening as it was, he bore a cravat and polished white shoes, as if he were going to a ball instead of relaxing at home for the evening. Reddish hair spilled over his well-lined face, the only sign of dishevelment.

"Can I help you?" He asked quietly, prompting Forsyth and Jamieson to exchange a glance as Byron spoke for them.

"Under decree of law, Oskar Melfia of 413 Olivine Court is under arrest for conspiracy and attempted regicide. Under oath, confirm your identity before the knights of Zofia!" He boomed, though the man didn't recoil.

"That is I. Regicide? Conspiracy? I admit this is all quite a shock to me. Could we discuss-…" he moved to throw open his door all of the way and started to gesture inside, but Byron swiftly stepped forward and gripped his wrist, the other hand steering the man back with a mighty shoulder shove against his own door frame. "E-excuse me! If you do not unhand me this instant, you will be the one begging for mercy at the stockade! I will come willingly!"

"You dare threaten a royal knight!? A filthy criminal who seeks to see our land in ruins?! I have orders to use whatever force is necessary! Jamieson! Forsyth, do what you were told!" Byron's bark shook the other soldier out of his stupor, and he scrambled forwards to grab the man's other shoulder, barring his arm behind him just as Byron had. "MOVE!"

Forsyth pushed past the altercation into the foyer, feeling Oskar's eyes follow him.

"What are you doing in my house!? Where are you going?!" Oskar's voice was filled with panic, and for the first time he began to struggle against the men restraining him, tossing his shoulder in an attempt to get enough leverage to pull an arm free. "Stay away from my family, this has nothing to do with them!"

"Find that crest, and if you run into either, take them out. The last thing we need are two more co-conspirators fulfilling his plans while his body rots. Do you understand me?"

Forsyth didn't dare answer, and instead pounded up the first stairs he saw, fighting the feeling of bile rising up in his throat. _'This is wrong… this is all wrong…'_ Dark eyes whipped to and fro, hunting for anything that looked remotely like a shield as the stairs let into an open room, one filled with the mounted heads of beasts. Beady animal eyes watched from the walls, perhaps wondering who this person was intruding upon their room.

From downstairs came the sounds of a struggle, and then a deep, guttural yell that sounded almost like Byron, whom Forsyth felt himself resenting more and more with each passing second. There were loud ordered barked down below, unintelligible between the sound of his own footsteps, his heartbeat, and the ruckus of both Jamieson and Byron shouting. He could discern a woman's voice, distorted and unclear, and the sounds of banging that he presumed meant that the other two had taken Oskar Melfia outside. It had gone mostly quiet, eerily so.

Before he could dwell on the silence, a sharp crack of pain hit the back of his head, nailing him right between the crevasse of his collar and helmet. Instinctively he went to reach for it, only to have the handle of an axe crush against his windpipe as the heavy weight of another person latched onto his back, calves wrapping around his waist from behind in a deathgrip. The soldier went stumbling backwards, struggling to maintain balance. They were using every bit of leverage they had to pull his head back, and his panic from the sneak attack only seemed to help aid them in choking him to death.

"Was it not enough to take my father with your lies?! Did you come up here to steal from me as well?!" A female voice roared, the sound muffled by his helmet. The axe handle jerked upwards, painfully gouging into his Adam's apple as the helmet was pushed up and over his skull, hitting the ground with a resonating thud. Cold air hit his sweaty face and caused him to suck in a gasp that only succeeded in choking him faster.

He braced against the pain at his neck and managed to throw his assailant overhead, knocking the wind out of her, an impact that brought with it a cry of rage. Before he had a chance to pull in another breath to feed his aching lungs, the girl was on her feet again. His own sword lay still sheathed on the floor beside her, and she caught his glance immediately, kicking it out of the way.

"I would let you fight me fair, but the dogs of Desaix have proven that there's no such thing. That is the only thing that I will apologize for. Just know that if there was an honorable way to take down someone of your size, I would have done that instead." She said this almost like a disclaimer, as if it mattered. Apparently, it mattered to her.

"I am a soldier of Zofia!" He managed to croak, feeling his vocal cords finally begin to loosen up and cooperate. He finally had the respite to assess that his esophagus hadn't been damaged, and that the person who could have strangled him to death was merely a girl, perhaps only a handful of years younger than himself.

"So am I!" She snapped back, eyes darting towards the stairs. "How many of there are you, and where are you taking him? Where is the proper trial? Why has the King not spoken on this subject at all? Are you so blind to your cause that you cannot see that this is all a fallacy, or were you told to simply not care!? This is all wrong!"

Something was terribly off, some infraction of justice. Had it not been painfully obvious from the beginning? "As a soldier, I will do my duty to my country-…" he began, interrupted by her sudden charge and shriek of anger as she swung her axe. He raised a gauntlet to block the handle from the right, knowing full well that it was an easy enough attack to dodge, only to find that a hunting knife was being buried between his ribs in the curve of his side. He heard more than felt the stab, pain not even beginning to register until the discarded axe hit the ground, unmanned. It was all he could do to strike her with every bit of strength he had, knocking her into a taxidermy bear, one that seemed to be watching the fight with an eternal expression of shock and dead-eyed awe. She let out some kind of noise, a frail, strained squeak of pain, and didn't move.

He had a split second to confirm that she wasn't going to get up before dropping to his knees, carefully wiggling the blade out of the notches of his chainmail before it had a chance to inch any closer to an organ. His blood, bright as opposed to maroon, told him that he was more than likely in the clear. Well over 30 seconds had passed and his attacker still hadn't moved, eliciting a sigh of relief as he kept his palm flat over his side to quell the bleeding. All was quiet enough for the voices from downstairs to carry, Forsyth struggling to breath through his nose so that he could hear over his own labored panting. Whatever their task had been, it seemed that it was complete.

Forsyth was only seconds from calling to his allies, the words still formed on his lips, but their loud voices carried to him first, and he fell silent to listen, unable to tell where exactly they were located.

"Gods be damned, put those papers out before they're illegible! It does no good if a court can't read them." Byron was calm, his voice low and even despite his harsh commands. He sounded nearly giddy. "You did good work. You won't have to worry about money for as long as you live, I'd reckon. This job will skyrocket you up in the ranks without a doubt."

Jamieson didn't say anything in response.

"Don't look like that. Sometimes one sacrifice has to be made for the good of all."

"You think I don't know that?!"

"Then keep your mouth shut and burn those documents enough to make it look like our friend here was in the process of destroying them when we arrived. Inspection shows up, you nab them from the fireplace, and we wash our hands of this entire mess."

"What do you think happened to Forsyth?"

Byron gave a pause. "There was something going on upstairs, but shit's gone quiet. I'll be honest, the only reason he was pulled was because we needed someone expendable if Mother Dearest here happened to actually be a witch. Kids like him get their heads in the clouds over being a knight. It's a hard ride, but sometimes someone has to be made an example of." There was a harsh thud and a muffled squeak, followed by heavy sniffing and what might have been a sob. "Looks like she's nothing more than a drug addict, she's completely out of her mind. Let's get out of here before the big guy freezes to death outside, huh?"

Jamieson relinquished a sigh. "You don't even want to go look for him?"

"Our assignment was Oskar Melfia. If you want to come back after we get this guy locked up be my damned guest, but all that Duma shit gives me the creeps. I don't hear a thing, and I got kids waiting on me at home. You wanna go up there after him? Or do you wanna get a headstart away from this place, huh? Our job is done, the rest is the investigation's mess."

"We lose new guys on the field all the time. Sacrifice a few for the greater good, right?" Jamieson reasoned, perhaps to convince himself.

"If the greater good is framing a blueblood scumbag like Melfia to feed my family, then we did a damn good thing today, soldier. So why don't you keep your damn mouth shut and let me have that small victory, huh? Keh, the greater good..." That was the last thing either of them uttered before all fell silent once more.

 _'_ _Python was right…'_ The realization struck Forsyth like an arrow, freezing him to the spot as his shock slowly dissolved into unabashed rage and… shame? Perhaps shame for every time he had flippantly announced that he wanted to be a knight? Shame for dragging his best friend into it, despite his wishes? Shame it was, no doubt about it. Shame and soul crushing disappointment.

The slamming of the door below snapped him out of his mild stupor, and he quickly crawled over to the wreckage of the trophy bear, its mouth still agape as if announcing what had happened there. He placed his bloodied fingertips against the crook of the girl's jaw and neck. A steady pulse chimed back, powerful and rapid even though she was out completely cold. He quickly patted her down (finding yet another hunting knife tucked into the shoulder strap of her brassiere) and kicked the axe well out of reach, should she jump awake and try to assassinate him once more.

Enemy or friend, he wasn't sure, but within him dwelled a strong sense of justice that kept him in line, and that righteousness felt violated, by his comrades and his country. He certainly wasn't going to leave an innocent girl behind, especially not after the loss of her equally innocent father. _'Just LEAVE,'_ he felt a voice nag at him, a voice that sounded quite similar to Python's. Surely, this wasn't his business. It would be best to just go, but-

Well, that simply wasn't Forsyth.

Certain that he was safe, he set packing his wound with a roll of emergency gauze, wincing as the pain send white lights swimming across his vision. It was less than a minute later that his attacker finally began to stir, sitting upright and looking around in a haze as she blinked her way back into the world of the living. Upon spotting Forsyth, her right hand went towards her shoulder, only to find that her emergency knife was no longer there. Confused amber eyes questioned him as she started to scramble to her feet, ready to fight with her hands if necessary.

"Stop, that's enough!" He warily raised his free hand in submission, the other still tight at his wound. "I am not your enemy!"

She did stop, perhaps not because he told her to, but because her rage waned enough for her to realize that he was far larger than her, and she was completely unarmed. "What's going on?!"

"I couldn't explain it even if I knew everything…" Slowly, Forsyth dragged himself to his feet, feeling a burn of protest from his wound. The girl started, unsure whether to jump back or attack him again. "They took Sir Oskar and left me behind."

"My father is a noble! He deserves far more respect than any of you dogs have treated him with! Even if he were guilty, he wouldn't have… you could have just…" Her words trailed off into a shuddering sob, face buried into her hands. She caught her breath after a brief moment, her anger flaring back up immediately. "I can't be wasting time! If you're not my enemy, take me after them! They can't have gotten far!"

She started to run towards the stairs, but he lashed out and grabbed her arm, halting her before she could give chase.

"You don't stand a chance against two lieutenants. You're only going to make matters worse, for your father and for yourself. I understand that you're upset, but that's just suicide!"

"What do that matter to you? You came here to kill me, after all!" She recoiled, disgusted at his touch.

"I did no such thing!"

"Rundeltia…?" There was a weak call from the direction of the staircase, causing both pairs of eyes to follow the shaky warble. A black haired woman stumbled at the top stair and fell on her knees, glazed eyes widening in surprise. A trickle of blood eked from beneath her bangs, usually so neatly tucked back with pins.

"Milady, still yourself before you fall backwards!" Forsyth rushed forwards to help her up, causing the girl's mouth to drop open in protest. She elected to say nothing as he helped her to her feet and moved her to the safety of the middle of the room, where she swayed on her feet to some unknown rhythm. Tears were drying on her face, but the blank expression in her eyes was alarming, considering the situation.

"We have to leave…"

Forsyth gleaned from the older woman's call that the girl was Rundeltia, and she was having _none_ of that. "Leave?! Maria-…" she halted, correcting herself. "Mother! We can go after them! How can you even consider running away an option?"

"No, no no no…" The woman repeated herself softly, shaking her head back and forth in her daze. "I sold the house, I sold the… t-the crest, and t-the… they swore that there would be… that it would all go away…"

"You attempted to bribe them?" He uttered a dry laugh. "Even if Sir Oskar was innocent, if anyone had the intent to frame him, the felony of bribery certainly made it all the easier." The girl had fallen completely silent, eyes wide in disbelief and locked onto the floor. "Regardless, your best option might be to leave, at least for now. There will be a full scale investigation here tomorrow, where they plan to find convenient evidence planted in your fireplace, from the sound of things."

"We have nowhere to go."

Forsyth opened his mouth and then closed it, quickly deciding not to speak, but it did not go unnoticed by the girl.

"What?" She demanded.

"There are still those who only want to right the wrongs of Desaix and the Rigelian Empire. I have heard rumors that they have a hideout, and I intend to take my partner and join their cause." He trailed off, gauging both of their expressions before continuing. "Not far past that is Ram Village. It's cheap living, and I could accompany you over half the way. It's the least that I could—" He was interrupted by a sudden and painful punch to his jaw.

"Rundeltia!" Maria unleashed a drugged gasp, crawling on her knees to her daughter's side as she set upon Forsyth again. She was much weaker than he was, but the element of surprise seemed to be in her favor.

"The LEAST you could do?! Well what's the MOST you could do?! You could leave us alone to pick ourselves up instead of offering advice as if you aren't the reason that we're in this predicament in the first place!"

He raised his hands defensively, ignoring the smarting sting in his mouth. "I am offering a solution. You are not the only one who has had a rude awakening, the least you can do is let me help a fellow Zofian! Take chase and lose your life, if that's what you'd prefer!" Forsyth snapped, feeling ever so slightly guilty for raising his voice.

"Come on now, Rundeltia. I'm sure we can trust him," Maria offered, though her opinion, coming from a cloud of ingested opiates and alcohol, perhaps wasn't made in perfect judgment. "If we make it out of the capital, we can start over. Isn't that right? We can start over, right?" Her eyes pleaded with Forsyth, as if he had all of the answers. "Nobles like us, we have an advantage over the commonfolk. We would be like queens among flocks of sheep in a new place, isn't that right?" She had asked for affirmation so many times that it sounded like a mantra to keep herself from having a breakdown.

"Look where nobility has gotten us." Rune rubbed her knuckles with her other hand, aching from striking Forsyth, though her hand seemed more affected than his face. "…I can't trust you."

"Oh, honey, but he hasn't hit you back yet, right? And he hasn't hurt me. Nor was he one of the ones apprehending your father. I saw the types of men that they were." Maria was wringing her hands, her eyes locked onto Rundeltia though they seemed to be looking past her. Deep worry lines cut across her pale forehead as the noblewoman's face twisted in delayed pain at the fresh memory. "T-they knocked me down, a-and then they kicked me. I c-…" her bottom lip began to tremble as tears finally began to spill over her lashes. "I c-c-could have been k-killed and your father was powerless to do a thing…"

"Far worse things could have happened to you, Mother. I know you've never been in a fight before, but instead of crying, be thankful that you're perfectly safe." Her tone was careful, but edging with impatience. The girl, a young teenager, was tending to her parent as if the roles of mother and daughter had been reversed. She reached out and brushed tears from her mother's face with hands that were still trembling; was it adrenaline, or anger?

"I understand that this has been traumatizing and unfortunate, but you do need to leave immediately. It's really not safe here, not for your family, nor for me. If…" Forsyth trailed off only for a moment, taken aback by the intensity of their stares. "If you brought this up to Sir Clive, perhaps-…"

"You know Sir Clive?" Maria interrupted, eyes showing a flicker of light for half a moment. "He knew my husband! Take us to him immediately, I want this sorted out at once!"

Forsyth winced, unsure if he'd made a mistake or not. Of course he had met Clive, and knew of Clive, but to approach someone of his stature as a freshman soldier and ask him to dive into the affairs of a stranger's family seemed to be quite a reach. "I-I'm sure he would do everything that he could, within his power. Though at the moment, I've heard that his Deliverance is kept quiet to prevent it from being stomped out while still in its infancy." As if to soften the blow of letting Maria down, he adamantly added: "but I did say that I know where the hideout is, and I swear to it that I can take you there!"

"Perhaps it would be best for you to leave, see a doctor for that wound, and then just leave us to our own business." Rundeltia uttered quietly. Maria, already bustling around the trophy room and picking up anything expensive that she could find, seemed to have already made up her mind. "Let us tend to our own wounds."

"I can't go back to my commander, not knowing how politics has taken precedence over Zofian pride and justice for her people. I've wanted to be a knight since I was a boy. If I said that I weren't crushed right now, I would be boldface lying to you. Besides, this?" He patted the laceration, forcing a laugh. "Hardly an issue. It's already healing."

"If you want to be a knight, then you're hired. Understand me? You are to take us somewhere safe and you'll be paid splendidly. Oh, I cannot forget the-…" Maria lost her train of thought, her eyes turning to the overturned bear. Despite the fact that she had given away the property and everything inside of it, she was tucking things away and making promises of payment that she couldn't keep.

"Unbelievable. I suppose it's easy to recover and bounce right back to your lofty throne when you don't have a heart to ache in the first place." Rune uttered, hands balled into tight fists. "You can't just give away Father's things, he isn't dead!"

"I am his wife, I will do what he would want me to!" Maria's head seemed to be clearing, her insufferable, snappy tone quickly resurfacing.

"Would he have wanted you to be gambling his earnings away, wasting it on opiates and absinthe and other men?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, and Maria didn't hear a thing as she started down the stairs, mumbling to herself and making a mental checklist of what she needed to take along with her. "I suppose now isn't the time to be petty…" Amber eyes shot up to Forsyth's own brown ones, the former still burning with anger. "What's your name?"

"Uh, it's Forsyth."

"Forsyth. I'll remember that. I don't want to join the Deliverance, and I don't want to meet Sir Clive. But that village you mentioned, not far past it? I think it would be best for us to regroup there, Maria and I."

"My partner and I could take you most of the way, I'm sure that's not an issue at all. It's the least I can d-…" He caught himself, recalling how angry that particular phrasing had made her only moments ago. "It's the… uh, most I can do. It's a mere two days journey with rest."

"You don't have to do anything to help. I know what I said, but realistically, none of this has anything to do with you. You're not at fault. And I'm sincerely sorry for stabbing you." Her eyes swept around the room, lingering on her discarded axe and then sizing up the damaged trophy bear. "Could I have a moment alone?"

"Of course," he nodded once, stiffly, before trotting down the stairs. He caught himself on the railing halfway down and folded in half in pain. His normal quick, aggressive jaunt proved to only jostle and scrub the surface of his punctured skin against the inside of his armor.

"Yoohoo, boy! Excuse me, boy! Will you come help load your lady's things into the carriage?" Maria's voice, haughty and high-strung now, rang out from a room to his left. Forsyth uttered a cynical, pained laugh. Carriage? Was she under the impression that there would be a fancy escort? It pained him even more that he was alone now, and there wasn't anyone to break the news to the lofty foppish woman that the mode of transportation would be merely their own feet, and her entourage was himself and Python, who would more than likely tease her nobleness the entire way.

Ah, Python, he had nearly forgotten. Forsyth already knew what his best friend was going to say. _'Your Pops was right, you'da been better of staying home and becoming a scholar. What did I tell ya? Why do you think I wanted nothin' to do with being a knight, huh? Just like you to find yourself in over your head.'_ It was as if the lazy marksman was right at his ear, scorning him with a hundred 'I-told-you-so's.

Maria strolled back into the foyer and blinked up at him, a fine silk gown laying over her right arm. "I am not paying you to stand there and look pretty, young man. Are you going to help me gather my things or not? Hurry _up,_ Rundeltia! Come down here and get your own belongings ready to go!" She didn't wait for an answer before she was off again, leaving him to descend the stairs and only stare around the foyer at a loss, still reeling and in a state of shock that was finally beginning to catch up to him. It wasn't long before the girl came down as well, her face splotched and riding the line between crimson and ghostly pale. She had clearly been crying.

"I suppose in a way, it must be nice to only be able to think about your own self. She's too conceited to imagine what horrible things could be happening to Father right now." She looked from Forsyth to the half-opened cupboards, robbed of their expensive contents that had already been stashed away neat and safe inside one of Maria's travel bags. "Also, I'd prefer it if you didn't call me Rundeltia; the way she says it just… anyways, I prefer Rune."

He gave a quick, aggressive nod. "Of course, Lady Rune. So, is-…"

Her eyes widened in horror for a split second as she raised her hands, quick to interrupt him. "No no no, not Lady Rune. Just Rune. My step-mother will demand you call her Lady Maria, but I'm just Rune. And honestly, disrespecting her would be welcome. She's going to need to learn that her place in the world no longer involves caviar brunch with blue-bloods."

"Just Rune, then?"

"Yes. Just Rune."

* * *

 _A/N: Hey there, it's been a while. So this time around, we learn that Maria had a drug problem, Oskar is accused of literally everything and anything, and that Rune proves to have a history of violence. Also, Forsyth is a pretty cool guy.  
_

 _As of 12/16/2017, I'm cleaning up the whole story and fixing discrepancies that have occurred from my initial vision changing. Rune, as a character, evolved from a homely girl to a complicated woman with more of a past than I ever intended to give her, so I'm noticing spots where something has been said that might be inconsistent. If anyone is confused about anything and wants clarification, feel free to ask! I also made some drastic typos. The year_ _that the chapter takes place on (and the part of the same day in a past chapter) is 396 VC, which is about 4-5 years before the start of Alm's journey. I had it written as 696 VC. OOPS! Things like that are why I'm always proofreading. Anyways, read, review, enjoy, and happy holidays!_


	13. Love Means Leaving

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Ch. 13**

 **Love Means Leaving**

* * *

"Tada! Looks like dinner's on Tobin tonight!" Tobin announced, bounding back into the camp with an ear-to-ear grin stretched across his face. He thrust his right hand skyward, in which he gripped two dead rabbits by their feet. Alm came stumbling after him and somehow managed to get his feet crossed; he stepped on the back of his left foot with his right and fell onto his hands and knees with a quiet "oof," that went unnoticed by all thanks to Tobin drawing the attention of the only other soldiers that were awake.

"Very good, you two! Lay it over by the tarp and Gray and Python will get to cleaning them when they rise. I suppose they will have to be dried into jerky, it's unlikely that we'll need meat for a while…" Mathilda delegated, stifling a yawn. With the guard duty of the night before behind her, she retreated to her tent before anyone had a chance to even try to stop her.

"But we were almost out of provisions, right?" Alm inquired, brushing muddy pine from his knees and palms. There was a tear in the knee of his hunting pants… again. The minute the armor came off, he was like a completely different person, one that seemed to clearly lack his normal catlike finesse.

Faye stopped stoking the fire set in the middle of the brushed-out dirt of the temporary camp, eyes falling directly to the rip in his pants as if she knew it would be there. "Yes, we were low. But Kliff and I caught a bear! That should be plenty of protein for the rest of the trip back home, and once we're there, everyone's bellies can be full of home-cooked meals! At least, until we march into Rigel, come springtime…" Her voice trailed off, quiet and accusatory at the end of her final sentence.

"What do you mean you caught a bear?" Tobin's joy seemed to be draining out of his face as he lowered the rabbits, eyes sinking into the massive figure that was underneath an opaque dressing tarp. "…Wait, what? How did the two of you bring it back here?!"

"I carried it, silly!" Faye chirped, her high spirits returning quickly. She placed her hands on her hips and beamed a bright smile, one that lit up her face like sunshine. "How else would we get it back?"

"I… uh… I dunno…" The frugal boy was at a loss for words, looking from Faye's feminine arms to the massive beast and then to Kliff, who was slouched against Lukas's castoff chest piece with his face obscured by a book. Tobin was completely baffled. "There's barely any muscle between the two of you."

"Come on Tobe, you're being unfair. They're both probably stronger than you." Alm interjected. This, of course, set Faye's heart aflutter. She couldn't have stopped smiling even if she wanted to.

"Alm, you really think that?"

Only half-oblivious to the depth of her affection, the hero let out a light-hearted laugh. "Of course I do! You guys are amazing. Especially you, Faye. It'd be a mistake to ever underestimate how strong you are."

Kliff cleared his throat, a pair of crimson eyes peering over the binding of the book. "Ah-HEM. What do you mean _especially_ Faye?"

"Oh, I, uh…" Alm tugged at his unruly hair, eyes cutting to the side as he backpedaled his words as quickly as possible. "I mean that you and Faye are both amazing, but in totally different ways." Sure, that sounded good. "B-but definitely amazing in equal measures."

"…Alright." Kliff's eyes vanished again; he had been placated for now. "I guess you're off the hook, if that's the case."

"Thank Mila for that. I'd hate to be on your bad side."

"Nobody can ever really be off Kliff's bad side. That's the only side he has…" Tobin muttered under his breath, mopping the blood and dirt from under his nails with a washcloth from the bucket by the tarps. He peered under the lip of the cover to see a black nose and giant yellow teeth set in a long snout, and then quickly turned away. That was certainly all he wanted to see of the bear. Dead or no, he didn't want to find himself any closer to those fangs.

"That's not true, Kliff has a sweet side! He's even been reading romance novels from Clair and Delthea!"

Kliff sat upright at Faye's words, face going pale as both Alm and Tobin turned to deliver confused glances at him. Wordlessly, he closed his book and started to get up, only to have the other two set upon him. Alm snatched the book from his hands and studied the title, holding it up to Tobin. "Hey, what the hell!"

" _Chains: A Saga of Longing and Betrayal._ " Alm announced this, suppressing the urge to erupt into peals of laughter. "Kliff, I really never knew you were a romantic."

"You mean all this time that we've given you space thinking you're studying, and you're just reading smut?"

"To be fair, it's not smut!" Faye interjected, hands folded behind her back as she spoke with a wistful gait. "It's a novelization of King Gaius VII's courtship with his wife Guenivere, who was actually already married to noble who had an obsession with bondage. And so-…" She halted, deciding to skimp on the details. "Well, it's based on a true story!" Her face flooded with color under the leers of disbelief from the two of them. "I mean… maybe it's a little… better suited for specific tastes… but definitely a true tale!"

"…Can I borrow it when you're done?" Alm asked quietly, completely overshadowed by Tobin's gross wheezing. Faye bopped him on the back of the head, causing his laughter to dissolve into coughing.

"Stop that! What's wrong with guys liking romance?!"

"Nothing's wrong with that, it's just-…" One final snort escaped as Tobin covered his mouth. "It's just-… you do realize we're talking about Kliff, right? This Kliff?"

"Just because I'm reading it doesn't mean I'm enjoying it." Kliff finally defended himself, albeit not very convincingly. He snatched the book away from Alm and snapped it shut with an authoritative smack. "I've read everything else in camp, so it's not like there's anything left. There's nothing wrong with escaping to a fictional world where _you_ don't exist, Tobin."

Tobin's mouth flopped open in shock. "Wow, that hurts…" He got over it rather quickly, however. "I'd love to be a part of your fantasy world, buddy. You get a lot more attention from girls than the rest of us. Must be that boyish charm, huh?"

"Are you kidding me? Women glue their eyes to Lukas and Alm." Without a book to hide behind, Kliff had no choice but to socialize. Unfortunately, with Tobin, that usually meant being roasted and trying to stay one step ahead of something dumb inbound.

"Eheh…" Alm chuckled weakly, a fake smile of exasperation glued to his face. "I don't think so. Lukas, maybe, but they just mother me. I guess I must look like a kid when standing next to Clive or something. You actually manage to speak on good terms with them. Mathilda just keeps coming at me with a comb…"

Faye let out a sigh this time, folding her arms over her chest. "You say speak to 'them' like we're a whole different species. Maybe if you all could stop acting like you've never seen a lady in your lives, you'd make friends. Just talk to them like you talk to me."

Tobin interrupted, holding up a hand to stop her. "Faye, you're another guy, though. Like come on, surely you know that! Forsyth is the epitome of chivalry, and even that guy doesn't treat you like he treats the others. I mean, have you ever heard him say _Lady_ Faye? Or have the other girls ever tried to do your makeup or hair like they do to each other?" He failed to notice as her hands went to her sides, clenched into fists.

"It's not like they've ever asked, of course I'm not going to invite myself to play pretend house with nobles…" She argued weakly, face rising in color. Alm, ever sensitive, knew that she was visibly upset, but had absolutely no idea what to say. Tobin was still completely under the impression that his words were complimenting her somehow, oblivious to the fact that he was only making her feel more isolated than she already did.

"The difference is that a lot of our allies look busted without primping themselves up. Thank the stars that you don't have to fumble with all that garbage, Faye. Unlike them, you spend your time being useful." Kliff interjected, shooting his line of sight over to the fire as Faye and Alm both gave him appreciative looks. His face flushed in embarrassment, fully aware that the two of them knew he was being kind to make her feel better, even though it was unlike him to pat anyone on the back just for the hell of it.

"I don't think any of the ladies in our motley crew would appreciate you calling them useless, especially in comparison to the others."

All four of them jumped at the sound of Lukas's somber voice, heads tilting up at him as he approached from the direction of the westernmost thicket where Tobin and Alm had just caught their measly hares. Despite having just come from the depth of the muddy wood, every hair was in place and his clothing was pristine. It was strange to see him without his armor, well groomed and perfectly-postured.

"That wasn't what I meant." Kliff lamented, letting out a groan of annoyance. "Every conversation with you nobles is like a balancing act, I swear…" This last bit he mumbled quietly, near thankful that Lukas didn't hear him.

"Morning, Luke! So you overheard, huh?"

"I only caught the tail end of your conversation. Is there… something important that needs to be discussed?" Business as always, Lukas folded his arms behind his back, at attention. His voice was near robotic, low, calculated.

"We were just gossiping, that's all." Alm admitted, laughing softly in the hopes that it would disarm Lukas's sudden intensity.

"I see." A deep frown creased Lukas's features. "Well, if that is all, perhaps it's best to keep a low tone as to not disturb those who need their rest." He made his leave with a sad smile, retrieving his armor from behind Kliff before making his way towards his tent. A silence fell over the four before Faye released what sounded like a whoosh of air, as if she had been holding her breath.

"What was that about?" asked Tobin, brow knitted. "Did we do something wrong?"

"Lukas just really hates it when we talk about classes and nobility. I think…" she pondered for a moment, looking for the right words. "He really works hard to close that gap, but when it fails he thinks it's his fault."

"Aw, that's not fair though! Just because we don't always get along doesn't mean we hate each other! I like the snobby nobles and their dumb, fop stories. I just don't like it when Clive says stuff like 'there's nothing wrong with people of low-birth.' Like come on, he shouldn't act like we're being blessed by his noble and tolerant presence."

"I know, Tobin, but saying that out loud isn't really going to help solve the issue…" Alm added, feeling his chest tighten. "Even so, it's not Lukas's burden. I wish he wouldn't take it personally."

Kliff was quick to explain what he felt should have been obvious to his friends. "Every time the nobles complain about us, it's up to him to be the voice of reason, since he's the one that brought us here. And when we complain about the nobles, he takes it as his responsibility to fix, because he represents that class. Not to mention that he's always the one caught in the middle, so he can't afford to even have one best friend without being accused of taking up sides."

"You know, for a jackass that doesn't talk to anyone without handfuls of attitude, you're really good at reading people, Kliff." Tobin couldn't hide his smile as Kliff's eyebrow jumped in anger and he picked himself and his book up off the ground.

"Yeah, well, I've reached my limit on you, so don't talk to me unless you need something."

"Sure thing, good buddy. Enjoy your naughty book! Tell me if it has a happy ending." Tobin poked Kliff's forehead as he walked by, causing him to put on his breaks, shoulders tensed.

"It's not-"

"-You're such a lecherous boy, Kliff. Filling your pure, innocent mind with filth like that. What would your mother think?" Tobin drawled dramatically, reveling in the fact that his friend's face was becoming paler by the second.

Mission: Irritate Kliff

Mission Status: COMPLETE

"Maybe we should do something to show Lukas our appreciation. Bake him something, or have just a day where we do things that he would like…?" Alm mused, still troubled. "I think he really likes sweets."

"We could make him something together! Maybe a custard?" Faye was beaming again, absolutely overjoyed to have Alm's attention. Kliff and Tobin ceased to exist in her mind, all her heart and soul set on spending time with the boy she had grown so distant to. Though it was for Lukas, and he certainly did deserve all the appreciation they could muster, the red-headed soldier was all but forgotten to her.

* * *

 _It feels so strange to write a letter to someone sitting right next to me. How funny that you have your nose in a book, twirling your hair, not paying a lick of attention to what I'm doing because neither of us have said anything in well over two hours. I'm sure to many people that seems odd, seeing a strange duet of silence just merely perched upon the riverbank, but in many ways that's what I've enjoyed most about knowing you. When there is nothing to be said, it's okay to merely not say a thing. However, there are times where silence can shatter instead of allow security, and I believe that ones of those times is fast approaching._

Kliff felt an icy claw grip at his chest, exhaling as if he had not been allowed to breathe for the entire duration of the first paragraph. He smoothed out the creases of the letter, perched between the open pages of the gods-be-damned trash novel that Clair had lent him. He recognized the stationary when he had first seen it, of course. The letter that he had found on Rune's desk what felt like nearly a year ago, the one with his name on it. All this time, and she couldn't have bothered to send anything else?

He had already read the first paragraph, and had actually been rereading it with the intent to finish it, but that was before his friends had gotten him completely sidetracked. The rest was new territory. New, scary territory, because for something to have been written so long ago, it had to be life or death important. But he didn't have a choice but to keep reading, following the neat cursive as it danced across pale salmon colored sheets of paper.

 _My life since arriving in Ram has been bleak, but oddly fulfilling. Working the land, helping out those in need, being able to fight and hunt unbridled by the stigma of nobility, all without ever hearing a political word. It was a strange mix of heaven and hell; I felt like my life had meaning, but I was crushed by loneliness. To suffer such an injustice and have not a soul to breathe it to, save for my axe? And even my axe didn't care to listen. I remember the day I met you, I thought, "what a strange boy," and then nothing else. Doesn't that sound odd? Especially now. I fear that Rune of the past should have been able to sense that you were… nevermind. I give Rune of the past too much credit._

 _I'm getting away from my point. I only wrote this for when you were away, because there are things that I'm too nervous to say even right now. Even though I know you wouldn't laugh at me. I'd be afraid to see it in your eyes; you thinking differently about me, and me not being able to take any of it back. I can feel it—you'll be leaving Ram soon. Something about the time that we spend together feels limited. It's saddening, filling up that time saying nothing or doing stupid, childish things, but I don't think I'd want to spend it any other way. Then I worry that I'll be forgotten, because nothing scares me more than that. I think about my father, who certainly feels abandoned. And I think about all the things I've told you, and imagine them fading away, lost to the world because you've grown up and gone out to see the world and I would exist only as a fleeting memory, or perhaps a chapter. If you were to go, I realize that with you goes the only person to care for me.  
_

 _Piteous, right? Then I think to myself, 'Rune, are you assuming you matter that much in the first place? To demand a place in someone's heart?' That's when I find myself wanting to ask you, needing reassurance of my importance, but I always hesitate for fear that I would sound like a fool. Can you imagine? If I turned to you now and stared right into your face and asked "do I matter?" That's a bit existential, is it not? It would be unfair, because honest as you are, it's wrong to tell someone that they do not matter. So it would really not answer my question, and then you and I would both just sit here, uncomfortable and sort of annoyed at each other._

 _I've decided that if you leave, I will leave as well, towards a different goal. I have unfinished business, but the thought of taking care of it while you are here, when I potentially may not make it back, upsets me. Again, perhaps I'm being a fool for thinking that it would matter to you. That I have impacted you in any way. But if you do or do not need me, I still appreciate you. There have been pits that I couldn't have crawled from alone. So, I shall be very clear with the rest of this letter, as daylight is growing thin and I do not want to give myself time to change anything about this letter by coming back to it later._

 _I'm going to the capital to do what I can for my father. I am aware of the consequences, and will be at peace should it go awry. I am thankful for your tolerance and friendship. It alarms me to write words that I've never spoken, always frightened that I am the one to care more than the other person._

 _For me, love when you've shed your shell and let another witness your vulnerabilities, and then you walk away from the encounter and realize that they have not wounded that softer side of you. It then becomes your goal to make sure that they are protected as well, because they have given up that armor that they created themselves, and henceforth expect to have yours. With respect to trust, I love you dearly. _Can't you see why I couldn't say this in person? If you had simply responded "you're not that important to me," I would be completely vulnerable.__

 _I don't know what love is beyond that. It does upset me that it's completely possible that I will never have the chance to hear what your philosophy is. You're too smart to misinterpret what I mean by that. Imagine if you did, though. You, having an older girl "confess" to you and you having full power to reject her? I don't think you'd be able to walk without tripping over your own ego if it were something like that. Sadist._

 _But that's enough. I've said my piece, and hopefully you've received it in some way. If you're gone when you read this, know that I'm wishing you well. It's likely that I'll just tear it up and toss it to the wind._

Kliff slammed the book shut with the letter inside, causing Python to mumble in his sleep from the far side of the tent. He didn't notice. _'Love is wanting to strangle someone to death and not have them actually die,'_ he thought fiercely, overwhelmed. To write something like that, open the door for him to speak as if it were a face to face conversation, and then tell him there was no hope for a response...

It was cruel. It felt wrong. Yet he felt too wounded to be properly angry. For her to toss in time and time again that she wasn't sure if she mattered, as if he didn't make it clear enough? It was unfair. Hiding behind paper, hiding behind a shield of self-doubt, as if it were a fail-safe, as if he were going to hurt her. But there was no defending his case or getting onto hers, because she wasn't there anymore.

* * *

 **390 VC**

"Magnus, you promised to teach me!"

"Don't be dramatic, Rundeltia. I just needed to go check on Mother. There are still plenty of hours left in the day." As he spoke, Magnus Melfia's eyes hastened to the door, ears pricked for the slightest sound. Reassured that the noise was just in his imagination, he sat his thin form on the floor, legs crossed. Before him was a mess of scattered papers, ink dappled across them and inching precariously close to the white carpet of his floor. His younger sister lay stretched out on her stomach, the culprit of the mess. An inky hand print was upon her right cheek; a masterpiece of her own accidental doing, it made it look as if she had slapped herself.

"Please don't go back to see her, I don't wanna be alone."

He ignored the worry in her voice, instead clearing his throat and tucking back a lock of his strawberry blond hair; an escapee from the ribbon tied at the nape of his neck. "'Do not want to,' Rundeltia, not 'don't wanna.' You expect me to teach your proper cursive but you insist on using crass child's language? It will just insult the script. And do not raise your voice."

"Right," she obliged, nodding her head fiercely. Her small hand took the quill pen and brought it to paper, getting the first two letters of her name out before it was out of ink. A growl of frustration escaped her lips as she rolled over, hands over her eyes. "I always screw it up!"

"Come now, stop that." He scolded her, though his voice was gentle. "You know, Father cannot write script with ink at all. It takes a lot of concentration to not have to constantly reload your quill. Even should you only get a little better, you will still be better than Father. You simply have to manage your ink and make sure every loop is identical.

"Show me how you do your name again?" She brought her eyes back up to him, but his gaze was at the door again. She knew he was checking to see that the lock was turned upright, which it was. So long as the lock was up, they were safe.

Safe from the thing that sat down below, laid back in their Mother's chaise lounge. It wore the clothing of their mother, had the voice of their mother, but the eyes were solid black, like coals pushed into rising dough.

It had been four weeks ago that Mother had vanished, taken from the market in the middle of the day. Father had done everything in his power to look for her, hunting every second of every day, wearing his resources thin.

It had been three weeks ago that Mother had come back, stumbling home and collapsing onto her lounge. It was there that she died, and it was also there that she woke back up again, as if rising from death was the same as slowly coming out of a sleepless nap. The transition seemed to only take seconds. Since awakening, she had remained there, turning purple, swelling, thinning, decaying, but still speaking, still needing sustenance. From time to time she wept in their mother's voice, as if a part of her was still alive and wishing for her suffering to be over.

And it had been two weeks since Rundeltia or Magnus had seen their father. He left to seek a cure and hadn't returned, even missing his own father's funeral in the process. Magnus had arranged it, a boy of only seventeen laying his ruler to rest. And yet he still couldn't find it within him to do the same for his mother, though she was clearly dead. That thing existing in their house in the absence of Oskar was… something else, something unholy and rife with ruinous darkness.

A witch, Magnus knew, but refused to truly accept. It was a corpse that spoke his name and politely asked him, from time to time, if he still loved his Mother. If he said no, it would whisper cruelties directly into his ears even from across the room; horrid ballads of misery and massacre. Threats to kill his sister, his father, projected into his very being with no possible hope of solace, even if he plugged his ears and squeezed his eyes shut and begged for it to stop.

So when it asked if he still loved Mother, he always said yes.


	14. Sacred and Profane

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Ch. 14**

 **Sacred and Profane**

* * *

 **396 VC**

"The terrain here is poor, milady." Forsyth offered an arm to Maria, who every so gently placed one delicate hand around his forearm and gathered her skirts with the other, sniffing in annoyance as if touching a man who wasn't in a finely tailored suit was beneath her station. "Mind your step."

"Would it have been too much to procure a horse?" She asked, for what might have been the fourteenth time in 24 hours. She stumbled into him suddenly, an audible pop coming from somewhere beneath her many layers of dress. "Oh my! Ouch, my… my ankle!"

"Lose the heels, lady," Python groaned, rolling his eyes as she dropped to the ground and fussed over her leg, rolling her foot from side to side to see if it was broken. it wasn't, obviously.

He was done with this woman, had been done since the first second he had seen her. Well, that wasn't completely true. For someone pushing 35 or so, Maria was a lady that it was hard to turn your eyes from. But Python, who had lived most of his life being a pretty shallow, simple man, finally learned that the phrase 'looks can be deceiving' had merit.

"You said that this trip would only take two days! Two! It's nearing midday of the third and we've barely seen anything that looks livable! Is Ram Village even real?!" The noble complained, pulling herself up and shoving her inky hair back from her forehead. Tears streaked her cheeks, smudging her makeup, though it seemed she was nearing her limit and cared little about her appearance at this point.

"You moving at a snail's pace and needing to pee every ten seconds isn't making this any easier. We've had to stop and rest for you so many damn times that we've stood still for far longer than we've been moving!" Python snapped, earning a sharp look from Forsyth. Of course. It was just like him to avoid conflict, especially when it came to women.

Python didn't really care what was under someone's clothes, be it bouncy or dangly. Treat everyone like you'd want to be treated, in his opinion, chivalry be damned. The only woman he'd ever suck up to would be his own mother, and that was that.

"Python, mind your tongue! …Milady, if you'd prefer I carry you…" Forsyth lamented, a somber note in his usually booming voice denoting that his kindness was reaching its limits and he was eager to simply be out of her company. Much to his chagrin, Maria nodded, brushing herself off as she waited to be picked up.

"Forsyth, don't-…" It was too late. He easily lifted the woman in his arms and turned back to the road, moving at double the speed that the four of them had been trailing along at.

Python peered over to his right at Maria's step-daughter, who hadn't spoken a word since their journey had begun. Forsyth was on edge over this, pestering and prodding and doing trivial acts of kindness. Clearly, he felt as if it were his fault that she had fallen into silence, and that he had to repent for some unspoken sin. This was simply the kind of person that he was. There was never a lapse in his intensity or drive to do right, when meant that when he felt he did wrong, it was the end of the world.

Python knew better. The girl was in mourning, that was all. And as cruel as it sounded, if she were half as obnoxious as Maria was, he would want it to stay that way. Having two big mouthed idiots being waited on hand and foot would be the last straw. He'd just flag down a merchant and ride easy to the Deliverance Hideout, rid of Forsyth and the refugees he'd taken under his ever so righteous wing. Go ahead and hurt if it kept at least one of them silent; why the hell should he lament over strangers?

Gods, being on the road like this was pissing him off.

But even in her silence, she wasn't being mean or snobbish, nor acting like she was an entitled prick like her step-mother. She nodded yes or no when spoken to, and half-smiled at bad jokes. In his book, she was annoying because she was a teenager and because he was in an ass of a mood, but overall tolerable. "You, uh… you don't expect me to carry you, do you?"

She gave him a wry smile, peering at him from sleepless eyes. "Not particularly. Should I carry you?"

He grinned, tossing up his hands in a shrug, half in shock to have heard her voice for the first time. "Actually, I wouldn't mind havin' a pack mule of my own. Wanna take some of yer Ma's bags offa me, kid? Now that you're done pretending to be a rock."

Her eyes darted downwards. "…I'm sorry. That's fine by me."

"Oh, I was… uh.. kidding, but sure thing." He stopped and unhooked a heavy bag that had been drilling into the side of his neck, handing it over and rolling his head against his shoulders at the sweet freedom from the awful tension. "Hot damn, I appreciate that. I dunno how much more of that I coulda tolerated before I broke in half."

She watched Forsyth with Maria in tow trot well out of earshot, and then looked up at Python with brows furrowed. "I don't understand why he's doing this. Can't he see that just his presence is enough to keep any wounds of that night from healing? The minute I feel like I have my head on straight, I see him and… and I'm just reminded that I'm running away from home like a coward."

Python only blinked in response, mouth open slightly, at a loss of what to say. "I, ah… listen, kid. As much as you love yer Pop, think he's the best man in the world, to the Chancellor he's nothin' at all. And to everyone else, he's nothin' at all, really. What should me or Forsyth care?"

She cast her eyes downwards once more in shame, causing him to tug at his ear as he stumbled over his words.

"Uh… What I mean is, we know what's right and what's wrong, and bein' mad at someone who understands and is tryin' to do right just isn't fair. You're still standin' here, right? Only because you got lucky enough to have one idiot soldier with a heart as your enemy instead of three of 'em without. That freakin' moron spends every second of every day tryin' to do right by the world, so don't go lookin' a gift horse in the mouth." He jabbed her shoulder, directing her attention from the ground back to him. "Listenin'? _You_ got real lucky, girl. Get all your feelings sorted out and then cheer the fuc-..." he stopped himself, reddening at nearly dropping the f-bomb in front of a girl. Alright, so maybe he wasn't chivalrous, but his mom did at least teach him basic manners. "Uh, I mean... cheer up."

Hazel eyes darted from Python's glare, her face rising in color as her eyes welled up with tears. "I… I suppose you're right-…"

"Whoah now, don't you dare start cryin'! I'm not, uh, equipped to handle waterworks." He looked around in a panic, hunting through his pockets for a handkerchief as her hands went to her face to hide her tears. "Seriously, plug it up. Forsyth is gonna think I did somethin' to you. I thought you were a soldier? Quit bitchin', start movin'!"

She mopped her face furiously, embarrassed that she had been unable to contain her tears. They always seemed to be sitting at the corner of her eyes, ready to spill at any moment. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Python rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, it better not. I preferred you silent, when you weren't making me defend that idiot Forsyth."

* * *

Black boots squelched in the mud of the overgrown main road, silenced by the patter of the winter rain. It had woken Rune at 4 am, drip-dropping on her tent like frozen tears. As much as she needed to get up and get moving, she stayed on her back for a while, staring up at the gray tarp and absorbing the sounds of thousands upon thousands of non-threatening droplets. At some point she had risen and continued her journey, no longer sheltered from the rain but becoming a victim to its cold. Since then she had just been walking, walking.

Her eyes watched the right side of the torn up road, expecting the mile marker to appear at any point now. She anticipated it, staring so hard that she stumbled again and again at the rivulets and sideways rocks and puddles in the road. Eventually, it did come into view; a wooden sign set with golden lettering that had faded but still managed to remain intact.

CITY-STATE OF RUNDELTIA

"At Home in the Stars"

Her namesake, the place where she was born. Rune had never known what that meant; at home in the stars. Even now it seemed a strange thing to put on a way-sign. Whether she knew what it meant or not, this was her destination, and her feet hastened to enter the arch. The steam pouring through her parted lips combined with the gray sheets of rain obscured her vision. Rune lifted her hood and looked around as she passed the first few houses and entered the fountain square, a walk of only a handful of minutes from the entrance.

It was a grand structure for such a small, dainty bit of topography. The statue was that of a man with a fist at his chest in a fine salute, his stone cape captured as if it were blowing in the wind. Four rectangular flower beds curved around the circular basin, now only empty save for rainwater and muck. The statue's face, once chiseled so carefully in an effigy of her grandfather, had been split in half. The right side lay in the bottom of the algae infested fountain, destined to see only a life of grime. Perhaps it was better that way; he couldn't see the disrepair that his home had fallen into.

And speaking of home, there it was. A sprawling manor set behind the cobblestone square, where so many years ago, merchants would set up stalls selling sugar cane and flowers. Rune remembered looking down from the right wing of the manor, entranced by the colors of blooms, balloons, jesters, crowds of people enjoying a lazy Sunday before meeting at the cathedral for worship.

She stared, and it stared back with empty windows like rows of eyes, unblinking.

As Rune started to jog towards the entrance, she thought she noticed a figure standing behind the gate out of the corner of her eye, a long; yawning face barren of any features peering from under a cloak.

She did a double-take, and it was gone. A lingering ghost of days bygone. Or perhaps she was the ghost, intruding upon this shattered time capsule that she was never meant to see. Either way, Rune pushed it quickly from her mind, lest she succumb to fear and back down.

Fingers locked around the black wrought iron of the fence and pushed it open, wincing at its squeal of protest. It wasn't until then that the feeling of dread hit her like a gray ocean wave, bringing with it an awareness of how cold she was. She wondered, briefly, like a fleeting wonder of half a dream, if Kliff had ever received her letter.

Things had gone differently than she expected, that was for sure. But there was a possibility that she still had time to right the wrong she bogged herself down with day after day, the heavy regret of never trading places with her father. Her heart beat fast at the realization that he would either be alive or dead, and she was going to find out that information incredibly soon. It felt surreal, as if every moment of her life since leaving he capital was some sort of fever dream and she was waking up into a world that had changed.

The massive mahogany doors were unlocked. She let herself inside, inhaling sharply in wonder at the beauty of the foyer. It was still intact; a connecting dome with a glass roof and stained glass walls depicting the history of Duma and Mila's ageless battle. Even cloaked in dust with gray slants of stormy light pouring through from above, it still took her breath away.

"Father? Are you here?" She called, startled by the sound of her own voice. She shed the overcoat that had done a poor job of keeping her warm, letting her drenched curls down to hasten their drying and perhaps avoid a nasty cold. As was her nature, she started rambling in her nervousness. "I went to the capital, but they said you had been released. Of course, I thought to check the house, Maria's house, but I know that wasn't your home. I couldn't believe that this place is still standing!" She laughed weakly to the audience of nobody, her voice reverberating and making her privy to the panic that it held. "Father!" She barked again, still expecting no response.

Which was why she yelped in surprise when there was a response, a heavy stomping on the spiral staircase at the back of the main den where her mother's chaise lounge still sat, blackened with rot. Her eyes didn't spare a second for the chair, instead shuffling closer and watching as heavy boots emerged from the top of the stairs, followed inch by inch by a man's form. Her heart remained gripped in frigid terror until finally the top of his head passed down from above and he stood at the bottom of the staircase, weathered and aged.

But still her father.

"Rune, is that you?"

It was still his voice.

She sprinted across the den and threw her arms around him in death's embrace, loud sobs buried into his overcoat. It was dusty, as if he had just changed into it. But it was real. And she was afraid to let go, afraid to look up, not knowing if she would stir to find that it was only a dream if she dared move. A heavy hand landed on top of her head, and she felt it in his chest as he laughed.

"You've made some journey, Rune. Look at you. Gods, last time I saw you, you were…" He trailed off, a weak waver to his voice. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I-I-… I'm so sor-…" She could hardly get words out over her tears, only managing to look up at him for a second before she was blinded by them once more. Try as Rune might to stop them, the dam that kept her emotions in check had shattered, letting free an overwhelming combination of pain and relief. It felt as if her heart were being pulled from her core, and it was dragging her lungs along with it. Even trying to speak was incredibly painful.

"What on earth are you sorry for?" He sounded bewildered, a lilt in his voice that she knew so very well but hadn't heard in so long.

"I should have—"

His hands gripped her shoulders, giving her a stern shake. "No. You should have done nothing differently. You must stop believing that everything is your fault. I should be angry at you now for that very thing! Why did you go to the capital? If the Deliverance hadn't liberated the prison, you would have been in danger just for coming!"

Finally Rune looked up at him, her crying subsidized to a mere silent stream of tears. "The Deliverance…?"

Oskar shook his head. "We can deliberate on the details another time, but for now there is much to be done. And I haven't a clue where to start."

"We start from home. That's Ram Village." Rune said sternly, defiance flashing in her teary eyes. "You'll not argue or try to return to the life of a noble, I won't have it! And I certainly won't lose you again!"

He seemed stunned for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief. "You've certainly developed a commanding tone. Your stubbornness has evolved, hasn't it? I suppose you believe you know best." There was a haunting tremble to his voice as he scanned the dim den, giving his head another shake. "I won't argue, but it's nothing to do with the capital or my former station. This home is my home, and your mother is still here. When that is taken care of, then I will be ready to take my leave."

Rune felt ice run through her veins, her fire from only seconds ago dousing as if she were still standing in the rain. "Mother…?"

 _Do you still love Mother, sweetie?_

She felt the words whispered to her ear, causing her hair to stand on end as gooseflesh erupted on her arms. Her father narrowed his eyes, catching the shudder of fear that passed through his child.

"You heard it as well, just now? She has been speaking to me since I've arrived. I cannot tell if it is truly her, but I know that it must be silenced. It was wrong of me to take the two of you and flee without putting her to rest. The woman I love deserves more than to exist as the host of a parasite. A woman as righteous as she, to see her in this state… that is the sin that I could never be forgiven for. She is upstairs now-..."

Gripping her hands into fists, Rune ran past her father and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He called after her in protest but didn't follow her to stop her, instead only watching her go with his hand gripping the railing.

"You should not see your mother like that!" He weakly warned. Rune felt heavy with panic at the thought of letting her father out of her sight, as if he could vanish at any moment, but that didn't stop her from stepping into the grand hall of the second floor. It was vacuous, just as she had remembered, but smaller somehow at the same time. The last time she had seen the expanse of navy blue rug rolled over red-brown wood, she had been barely old enough to write her own name.

 _Will you come say you love me?_

As if these words were a compass, her legs moved towards the end of the wing, stopping in front of a door with a glass doorknob. She knew it well; it was the music room. Memories fresh as snow surfaced. A five year old Rune frustrating a tutor into quitting because she couldn't play the clarinet due to her missing front teeth. Her grandfather flicking the metronome as he pored over paperwork, as the steady rhythm of the ticking kept him focused. Her brother, a distant, faceless memory, trying and failing to teach her to read scores when she was simply itching to blow into a trumpet as loud as she could.

And there were the days where she would run around so much outside that she couldn't bear to march her small legs up to her own room and simply collapsed on the music room floor while listening to her mother play piano.

She heard it now, through the door. That familiar, easy song that she so often hummed to herself. Chopping wood, sketching, painting, skipping stones, bird-watching, it felt as if it had always been the background to her life. It was so ingrained into who she was that she had both heard Maria and even Kliff hum it to themselves, her having managed to get it stuck in their heads. The former offended her, as if her step-mother was stepping into a place where she shouldn't be and defiling something sacred.

Something sacred.

She opened the door.

Afternoon sunlight poured through the slants of the window, illuminating the white of the grand piano and her mother's gown with a glow like fireflies; alight with a warmth. It was visible, tangible, even though she knew that the weather outside was not a proper reflection of what she was seeing now. The scent of brass oil and jasmine hit her nose and she felt tiny and defenseless again, as she had been the last time she had entered the room.

Her mother's golden curls were catching the sunlight and highlighting all of the flyaways. Her right hand plucked away at the keys, and her left was on the shoulder of a man, one with reddish curls tied back with a white ribbon. Without both hands to play, the song sounded simple, plucky, archaic, but still simple and beautiful. There was a sudden deep note as the red-haired one touched an ivory key on his end and she ceased playing, her back still to a stunned Rune. She had intruded upon a memory, some encapsulated speck of time that she was privy to.

 _"_ _Someone is listening," he_ whispered, reaching up to cup his hand around his mother's ear as if sharing a secret.

 _"_ _Of course, dear. It's your little sister, isn't that right?"_

 _"_ _That is a stranger. I do not want her here, Mother."_

 _"_ _Nonsense, sweet Magnus. Rundeltia, come closer and show your brother your face? He cannot remember what you look like._ "

Rune took two steps closer, powerless to stop herself ever should she have desired. "Mother? Magnus?" At her trembling voice the male turned, only a concave void where his face should have been. She pulled in a loud gasp and tried to force herself to look away, mind shattered from the sight of such a simple, uncanny horror. But in a simple blink he was gone and the light in the room was gone with it.

There was only the woman again in the half-dark, a crooked back sitting at a slant. Grotesque, warped elbows were visible from beneath the edge of the sleeves of her dress. Matted locks of hair that must've been gold at some point clung to what little skin remained on the skull.

This was what her father didn't want her to see.

" _In Duma's… name…"_ that ethereal voice rumbled again as the woman turned, jaw hanging open, only attached by what remained of the insect eaten cheeks. With lips rotted away, the face was pulled back in a forever grin, one that finally caused Rune to take those same two steps backwards out of the room, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. One eye twitched wildly in its socket, yellow, clouded over with cataracts, but the other socket was empty and black, a thick liquid tricking down what remained of a nose. _"In… Duma…"_

Despite its state of rot, in only seconds the witch was up and lunging at Rune with a scream like a wailing raid siren, branchlike fingers clutching and clawing through the air in the mere split second it took to close the distance. Rune was petrified, rooted to the spot and unable to do anything but see. Even breathing was impossible. It wasn't until claws teething with clear venom swiped four slashes through her leather breastplate as if it were made of tissue paper that she finally regained mobility.

The witch swung her left arm to make a swipe at her face and Rude did the only thing that she had time to do. She grabbed its wrists and pushed back with all of her might, feeling the skin of the witch slip and slide against its carpal bones as if it were skin falling from a cooked chicken. Nausea roiled in her stomach, but if she wavered, and if those claws touched her skin-...

There was no time to think about that. Rune had only enough time to grab her hunting knife from her hip and ready a steady hit to strike the monstrosity in the chest.

 _"_ _Rundeltia, what are you going to do to me with that knife?"_ She heard her mother's sweet voice again and felt her knife hand freeze. She was looking into her mother's blue eyes, eyes rife with confusion and hurt and tears, set in a dark, beautiful face instead of the decaying one that was lunging at her only moments ago. She could smell her perfume, could smell the peppermint tea on her breath only inches away from her face, could see the healthy glow of life on her skin again, but more than anything it was the eyes that had stopped her. The fact that she was fighting to overpower what looked to be the woman who gave her life and nothing but love, short-lived though their time together had been. _"You're going to hurt me? Why are you going to hurt me?"_

Her mother was right in front of her, the mother that she longed to know more of, wanted so desperately to spend more days with.

She was at a loss, paralyzed. And she would have remained that way, had a droplet from the witch's venomous claws not fallen onto her wrist and reminded her that this was not her mother anymore. This was mercy, and it was justice. With the acid boring a hole through her skin, she plunged her knife forward with a scream, feeling the resistance of time-eaten ribs crack around her weapon. Before her very eyes the visage of her mother faded back into the nightmare that it truly was, falling to the ground with little resistance and convulsing violently.

Rune scampered backwards, letting out another shriek as she stepped backwards onto her father. Confused eyes turned up to him, but his solemn face was set on the witch. He had come to her aid when he first heard her speak aloud in response to the voices that haunted his home.

"Even know, it still is trying to manipulate me into feeling pity for it." His voice was stone as he moved Rune aside, kneeling before the creature on the ground. Its mouth had fallen open, jaw resting upon its clavicle. A rattling, windy scream of pain and confusion was blowing steady from it throat. "That alone will not kill a witch, but you've done what I perhaps could not."

"How do you… k-kill…" Rune fought for her breath, teeth gritted against the pain of her blistering skin. Sweat had erupted on her forehead and her back, feeling as if a fever had been wearing down her energy despite it only being a few seconds of exposure. Her eyes widened in surprise as his right hand erupted into flame, a burst that quickly took the form of a concentrated, flickering blue-orange fire. She had never seen her father use magic before. "You burn them…?"

"Wait outside the house. I will take care of this, and then we'll make our leave."

She began to protest, terrified to leave him alone with something so deadly. What if it grabbed him, and then he was gone forever? "But—"

"I said _wait outside the house!"_ Oskar barked, raising his voice at her for what might have been the first time. Rune didn't object this time, fleeing from the room without question.

With his daughter gone, Oskar merely snapped his fingers and turned his eyes away as the ruins of what once was his beloved's corpse were purged in flame, burning away until nothing remained but the melted blade of the knife that had impaled her.

There was no satisfaction or relief as he expected, only a hollow emptiness steeped in guilt. Only a void where his wife had been. "And what of Duma's name now, witch? What will your god do to save your soul?"

* * *

 _A/N: I don't have much to say here, except thanks for the reviews! I kind of go crazy without them because they really guide me into what I should change or add, so having that direction and feedback is nice. I've gotten over my writer's block and just want to spend my days writing before Christmas and work kick in, though I will probably do a holiday chapter. So! Oskar lives! No more rotting away in a cell, and no more Rune feeling like garbage for it! I actually did do a family portrait of Rune, Oskar, Mother, and Magnus. I'll put a link if anyone wants to see it, but finishing it is slow going because I was streaming my drawing and them my computer froze and didn't save any of the line art. Bah, what do y'all care? Happy holidays! I hope each and every one of you has an amazing time, whether you celebrate anything or not. Nighty-night!_

 ** _Edit: Shout out to Doctor Croc who appears to be reviewing every chapter as I'm editing this chapter right this second, omg. I wanted to give a live thank you to you because I super appreciate it._**


	15. Do I Matter To You?

**Ch. 15**

 **Do I Matter to You?  
**

* * *

"Good morning, Rune."

"Good morning, Father," Rune parroted as she shoved her socked feet into rubber fishing boots, bending down to tuck away the cuffs of her pants. It had been almost a week now since she had returned to Ram Village with her father and despite the grand adjustments, things were finally beginning to feel normal. He and Maria seemed to be locked in some limbo of both loving and hating one another, but even that wasn't entirely unpleasant. There was no longer an ear-shattering silence; the house felt full for the first time.

With these changes came all the more worries. Rune felt like she was rushing to make up for lost time, always paranoid that he father was going to vanish or that it had all been a dream. If that were the case, she hadn't woken up yet, so it was imperative that she keep moving forward until the illusion that she was so certain existed could be dispelled.

There was another issue eating at her. Every day she felt more and more guilty for that letter that she had sent to Kliff; so boldly declaring that he would never see her again. How could she sit and break bread with her father knowing that someone else set him free, and that her closest friend had no idea that she was home, healthy, and all was well? She hadn't sent him any letters in all of the time he had been gone, not wanting to distract him from his life. For all she knew, he was a different person. Perhaps he didn't even remember her, she would tell herself from time to time. But if he did care, and she had hurt him for nothing… the thought made her stomach twist painfully whenever she gave it any thought. It almost felt like a sin to be happy.

"Will you be fishing with me today?" She stood upright and fiddled in her right pocket to be sure that her house key was there, but froze at the sight of a soldier sitting at the table across from her father, a green-haired, bright-eyed man who was nursing a cup of tea and looking very out of place in her home. It took her a moment, but she recognized him, different though he looked not clad in emerald armor and covered in mud. The same turncoat soldier that led her and Maria out of the capital the same night that her father was taken. "W-why-…" Her words failed her, immediately going on the defensive. "What-" All she could fathom was that he defected back and was here to take Oskar away again. Even with the weight of her karma, surely her luck hadn't come to that?

Oskar raised a hand to silence her, a lax smile on his features. "Don't be so alarmed. Forsyth is the one who freed me from Desaix's prison, you know. Apparently, that isn't the only kindness he has done for our family."

 _'He is the one who saved you?'_ She thought, shame striking her like a hot iron. She had waited and done nothing for six years, and when she finally did build up the courage, someone else had already saved her father. She was grateful, but the realization that she had failed to fulfill her promise on her own became all the more daunting when the real hero was sharing tea with her father.

"Lady Rune, I hardly recognized you. You turned out to be quite beautiful!" He stood and offered his hand, but she only stared, unable to reach out and shake it. Defeated, he dropped it back to his side and cleared his throat. "My apologies, I didn't even consider that you might not remember me. It's been over five years, after all."

"It's not that." She shook her head, face troubled. "I know who you are, of course. How could I forget? …I'm sorry, thank you. Er-…" She dropped her eyes to the floor, once again shaking her head. "…I don't know what to say."

"Hah, that's alright! You never were my biggest fan." His vim and vigor had returned full force. "Truth be told, I've considered coming to Ram a few times, but Python said no. 'Don't even think about harassing those poor ladies, Forsyth, let them be!' But it was difficult to not at least see how you both were getting on in such a different place."

"How truly rare it is to find an honest man among men these days," Oskar commented, taking a long draw of his tea. "You took the time to think of some undeserving nobles when you're fighting a war. How I wish my son had loved me half as much." A dark chuckle passed his lips, and Rune felt the hair on the back of her neck rise on end. It was the first time her father had even mentioned her brother since being reunited.

"Well, I suppose I felt it was my responsibility; I'm part of the reason you lost your home, after all! Commander Alm led us to wait out the winter in the valley before mounting an assault on the Rigelian Forces. The winter past the sluice gate has felled many a good man. I thought it the perfect chance to finally follow up!"

" _Commander_ Alm? Sir Mycen's grandson?" Rune had a hard time picturing the sweet, amicable Alm leading an army, but then went cold at the realization that it meant the Deliverance had returned. "And the others who left with him…? They're here?"

"Well, yes. At the moment, the villagers are heading to their houses and making arrangements for those of us who aren't staying with them. Python and I will be staying at the inn on the westmost side of the village."

"Hm." Oskar cleared his throat, shaking his head in protest. "I would be remiss to make my savior pay for a place to stay. There's easily enough room in our home for you and your comrade."

"S-sire, I couldn't impose upon your family like that!" Forsyth chirped, but he certainly wasn't going to turn down the offer. Python's last drunken round of cards at the camp had left their pockets wanting. "I'd be more than happy to earn my keep—"

"Excuse me."

Forsyth was swiftly interrupted as Rune pushed past him, making her way to the front door with fervor.

A painful weight had dropped into the pit of her stomach, making her feel slightly sick as she threw open the door and started to trot down the stairs, fighting the urge to run. _'What am I even doing? What would I say if-…'_ Her feelings were in a jumble of fear, panic, and worry. _'What if not all of them made it back?'_

She had said nothing to Kliff since he left except for the singular letter that she sent right before going to find her father, and for what she felt was good reason.

He was leaving and starting his life. What right did he have to ask to be remembered, to make him worry? Since they had first met, Kliff had spoken of leaving Ram Village and never looking back. It was cruel to ask him to worry for her sake when she was to be a stepping stone of his past.

So then now why was she running towards town instead of away? I would be so much better for the both of them if she left town until the Deliverance had gone.

Rune didn't have time to make that decision, however. She had only descended down two of the four flat stairs before halting in her tracks, just barely managing not to plow into Kliff with all of her forward momentum. Her mouth fell open as she started to let out a cry of shock, one that she somehow couldn't even manage to elicit.

He had raised his hands to brace for impact and now finally dropped them, crimson eyes blinking in surprise. "Whoah. I came to see you and you're already endangering my life. Off somewhere in a hurry, huh?" He offered a half-smile.

She thought through a million things to say and couldn't muster any of them. Instead, she looped her arms around him and crushed him in a hug, not immune to the fact that the top of her head was at his chin now whereas only a year ago they had been nearly nose for nose in height.

He could feel her heart galloping against his chest and squeezed her back, a simple hug of reassurance. "Are you alright? Your heart is racing." He heard a sniffle that raised warning flags. "Wait, are you crying? Come on, seriously?"

She didn't look up and instead just gave a muffled, mute reply that sounded like an apology. At a loss, he patted the top of her head, waiting for her to stop. It only succeeded in making her cry harder.

The door opened behind Rune, flung open by Oskar on high alert. He had heard Rune crying and had come to inspect, Forsyth in tow. His hazel eyes fell upon Kliff's who was staring wide eyed over Rune's shoulder, about two seconds away from screaming that someone had broken into her house. He vaguely recognized the man from the portraits that he had seen lining the foyer.

"What is this?!" Oskar boomed, his voice low and heavy, the complete opposite of his normal laid-back droll. Kliff, fearing for his life, released Rune instantly and took a step back, missing the step with his right heel. He tumbled backwards and fell flat on his ass as Rune twirled on the spot with her hands raised to diffuse her enraged father.

"Did you enjoy your visit with your family, Kliff?" Forsyth chirped, swiftly ignored.

Angry red splotches had begun to bloom above Oskar's beard, one finger pointed down at Kliff in a threat. "You'd better have a damn good reason to have your hands on my daughter, or so help me Mila this land will be stained so deep with your blood that every cabbage grown will be bright red, boy!"

"Father! Please, he didn't do anything. You're overreacting," Rune stated calmly, helping a stunned Kliff to his feet by yanking at his arm. "This is Kliff."

Hazel eyes lit up at the name; apparently, it was one he was familiar with. "Oh, your friend, is it?" Oskar's voice had dropped back down to its usual pleasant volume. He gave his beard one thoughtful stroke. "I apologize for raising the alarm, I've never seen Rune with any friends. So I thought-…" he trailed off, giving Kliff a once-over. "Oh, what am I saying? Look at how thin you are! If you were up to no good, Rune could have snapped you in half."

"Father…" Rune let out an exasperated sigh, at a loss.

"I have heard much about you. You seem to be a remarkable young man. Forgive me if my first impression was less than positive, but there's a whole winter for us to get to know one another, if Forsyth is to be believed." There was a long, pregnant pause of utter silence, an uncomfortable, upsetting one. "...But it's time for my meditation. I've too much to be thankful for to skip out on an hour of prayer. Some other time, then?"

"Uh, yes sir…" Kliff's confused expression was locked onto Forsyth, baffled to find him of all people standing at the door like a guardian gargoyle. Oskar vanished back into the house, leaving the three of them staring at one another in his absence.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Kliff couldn't help but ask, hands dropping to his hips as he cocked an eyebrow at his ally. "I've shared a tent with you for six months. Can't I catch half a break from you?"

"I suppose not!" Forsyth was too good-natured to realize that Kliff was not joking. Kliff's spite was palpable enough that Rune quickly spoke up.

"Forsyth and his partner led us to Ram Village when my father was brought down. I suppose without him, Maria and I likely wouldn't be here. And you and I wouldn't have met." Rune brushed a stray curl from her cheek as she deliberated this. "Funny, I suppose I never thought of it that way."

"You give me far too much credit. If Python were here to hear that, he'd-…" Forsyth froze, brow furrowed in confusion. "…Python. I knew I forgot something. Where did I leave Python?" Forgetting his train of thought, Forsyth started down the stairs, his trot turning into a fast jog as he headed towards town, calling out for his apparently incapable best friend.

Kliff's eyes lingered after him for a moment before he turned back to Rune, caught off guard by her teary-eyed stare. Had she not been fine just seconds ago?! "Don't cry again without at least telling me what you're crying for in the first place."

Words eluded her for a moment, though every feeling was there, out of order and impossible to put forth. It was difficult to find exactly the inflection that she felt, but at its most basic, her answer was:"I truly thought I'd never see you again." She swept her gaze downwards, knowing that it wouldn't help tears not fall, but already too wounded from showing them to let them be seen again.

"Hey? Look at me." Kliff commanded, giving her right shoulder a shove. She did, trying to read his angry expression with eyes that seemed half filled with regret at fear. It both hurt his heart and made him all the more annoyed at the same time. "Tell me. Do I matter to you?"

"What?" Now it was her turn to be angry, flaring up in offense. "How dare you ask me that, you should know that you do!"

"Then how do you think I felt when you sent that letter? To see in writing that I've done such a bad job caring about you that you aren't even sure if you matter or not?"

Rune looked as if she had been slapped. "I…" She started to speak and yet found it impossible to talk around the lump in her throat. "That wasn't what I meant-…"

"Well, that's the message that you gave me. So don't even come near me unless you've got all the little facts straight in that head of yours." He jabbed her shoulder again, eyes blazing. "You matter to _me._ I care. Even if you thought of me joining the Deliverance as the start of a new life, how dare you assume I didn't want you to be a part of it? I'm insulted."

"I'm sorry..." Rune uttered weakly, feeling as if the crushing grip that had been dragging her down had finally lifted. She mopped at her eyes, letting out a broken laugh. "I had imagined that if I ever did see you again, I would look cold and confident. Yet here I am, getting scolded for my own self-doubt like a child…"

He let out a breath that he had been holding onto for a while. "Yeah, well, I'm just glad you're too busy crying to hit me. I was scared to shove you, but I think it was just the right amount of drama to make my point clear. Someone has to keep you from letting you get yourself down."

"I needed it." Her tone became somber once more. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel inadequate."

"You haven't." He took a long look at her house, smiling in its familiarity. Time had passed, he had changed, and yet reuniting had been so much easier than he expected, falling back into place as if he had never left. "What new books do you have? I don't have any left, and I've been slowly going crazy having to socialize. I can still count on your tastes, right?"

"Of course! I picked up some that I thought you might like, actually. Just in case you ever did happen to come back." She grabbed his sleeve and started to pull him into the house, but then caught herself, withdrawing her hand immediately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't assume that you wanted to come in and chat. Is there something else important you have to do first? With the whole Deliverance here, I figured..."

"I wouldn't have even come here if I didn't expect you to ramble at me for hours, you know. Your father, alive and well, just threatened to kill me. I think that deserves some explanation, right?" he caught himself grinning like an idiot and stopped, clearing his throat. He had only just commented on Rune's heart beating so quickly, and now his was thundering in his chest. "I missed you, you know."

* * *

Oskar struggled to grip the faucet of the sink from his position on the floor, reaching until he could finally, just barely, turn it on and silence the sound of his choking with the rush of water. His stomach lurched painfully and tears flooded down his cheeks as blood and water both erupted from his mouth, ruby droplets dripping down the raised porcelain seat. The water was a deep, dark red, a sure sign that the blood he was vomiting wasn't from some superficial sore in his throat. It was as if something were shredding his organs from within, forcing him to spit up his insides at whatever time was most inconvenient.

Shivering from a cold sweat, he gave in to his fatigue and lay down on the cool tiles for just a moment, eyes arbitrarily taking note of a tangled, abandoned spider web behind the toilet. A distant part of him made a mental note to sweep it away later, hopefully long before Maria had a chance to see.

' _She hates spiders,'_ he thought, feeling exhaustion and weakness radiate over him in waves. It would be so easy to just stay there for the day, resting on the bathroom floor, his family not aware in the slightest that he was slowly dying day by day.

How was he to tell them? He was keen on so many things with his impeccable eye for detail. Maria was not happy with his return, perhaps still in love with the memory of his money and fame. She was content to live with him, smile at him, sleep with him, but if Oskar were to ever ask if his second wife loved him, that fragility would surely shatter and the façade would fall.

To her, he had died six years ago, and her love had been buried with it. His existence now was merely a painful reminder of their past. A tangled marriage of convenience.

And then Rune, the only proof of his existence in the entire world, she was different as well. It seemed as if every smile were creased with worry and paranoia, the result of feeding on the idea of revenge for so very long. A strong, vibrant girl had become a shattered, anxious woman all for his sake. What would she have become if things had been different? If there had been someone to guide her? He still saw glimpses of the past, an unbreakable stubborn streak that almost always seemed to end with her getting her way, but emotionally-…

Why had he come back? To make their lives worse?

Making them suffer for the sake of love. The foundation had been shaken, broken into pebbles that could no longer form solid concrete. How was he to tell them that he wouldn't be of this world for long at all, knowing that it was all his daughter had?

* * *

A/N: _I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, and happy almost new year! Thoughts, questions, comments, review! This one might be messy until I can properly proofread, but I'm suuuuper tired._


	16. Soteriophobia

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Ch. 16**

 **Soteriophobia**

* * *

"Rundeltia, did I not tell you to stay by my side?"

Magnus stumbled after his little sister, catching himself by his palms as his boots slid in the matting of flowers lining the hill. He had taken his eyes off of her for half a second to take a swig of water and she had bolted off of the garden path and over the steepest hill upon their many acres, though he knew her well enough to know why. It was the flowers, of course. She and Father always walked up the hill together and every day she would grab fistfuls of flowers to bring home and throw onto the kitchen table. Without Father around, it was left to him to sate her energy with walks every day. He loved the child dearly, but walking the dog was much preferable to walking with Rundeltia. At least the dog listened.

The teen's exasperation gave way to horror just as he crested the hill. Rune was on her side, giant eyes set on a figure that stood over her. He was cloaked in robes of black and purple, and eyesore that was completely out of place. He looked like a creature that would prowl the night hunting for victim, shirking away from the sunlight and safety of the daytime.

"Get away from there! Who are you?! You have no business on this estate!" Magnus scrambled forward to grab his sister and yank her as far away from the man as possible, heart thundering in his ears. He cursed his father's absence for what felt like the hundredth time. Just before he could scoop her up, the figure moved at a speed nigh impossible for his size, standing between them. The scent of rot pervaded Magnus's nostrils and caused him to reel back, feeling bile rise up in his throat. "What do you want?!"

"We were invited here, dear boy. Is that any way to speak to a guest?" Oh gods, how he hated the sound of the man's voice. Low and inhuman, like the sound of a steel ship creaking at a stormy port. It was haunting and unnatural.

Magnus struggled back to his feet, one sleeve covering his mouth and nose. The miasma was so thick that it was palpable, curling from beneath the hem of the man's robes in gray tendrils. "You're no guest of mine, and I am the head of the household in my father's absence. If you don't remove yourself immediately, then I will take it upon myself to remove you from this world!"

Lava coursed through his veins as he projected a vibrant blast of fire from his fingertips. It engulfed the man but seemed to do little other than cause the flora upon the field to curl up and char black. The intruder was completely unaffected.

"Those well versed in the arcane can decompose mediocre spells like that without twitching so much as a finger, boy. I'll have you know your father is the very reason that I stand before you. You see, he fell at the feet of our lord and begged to exchange one of your short lives for that of a woman. Touching, no? The things that humankind will do for the pursuit of love? Or perhaps that is a terrible example." Haggard laughter rumbled from the man. It was a grating, horrendous noise, one that caused Magnus to flinch once more. He felt paralyzed until his sister finally found her voice and screamed, jarring him into action.

"Magnus!" Rune shrieked, choking on a sob. "I don't know what to do!"

"I am right here, there's nothing to be afraid of!" He snapped, feeling the weight of his hunting knife beneath his coat. "What cause do I have to believe a word that comes from your fetid mouth, intruder?"

"I'm only here to see which will be of more use to Duma's faithful. You can take me at my word that today, you witness mercy. Is that not proof enough?"

"You truly expect me to believe that the man who sired us would forsake a child to bring back our cursed mother? He knows full well that a witch cannot be turned back, and I hold that same knowledge. With that in mind, you'll be taking your leave of us. Surely someone like you knows that, too!"

"Oh, of course I do. But there is no reason that we should not feast upon the sacrifice that he has made regardless. Lord Duma is not a humble god of mercy." A shattered grin touched what was visible beneath the man's hood. "There is no question that a man of your conviction would be preferable to that of an aimless toddler. He feeds well upon impassioned hearts."

Having heard enough, Magnus lunged forward and pulled his knife free, driving it into the man's gut long before he had a chance to dash away with his unsettling quickness. Robe tore and skin gave way easily, spilling something cold, wet, and foul over his hand and the guard of the small defense knife. Rundeltia screamed as the man stumbled backwards, unleashing a ratting squall.

Without hesitation, Magnus snatched his sister up in his arms and sprinted, his legs pumping faster than they ever had in his life. He paid no mind to his lungs or his protesting tendons as he ran, feet barely kissing the ground before they were gone again stride by stride. Looking back was not an option. Breathing was out of the question.

It wasn't until they were back home and safely locked in his room that he even allowed himself to think about the entire encounter. He placed his back against the door and struggled to level his breathing, unable to speak even as his terrified little sister wept into his side.

"What was that man saying about Father…?" She whimpered after a long silence, keeping his coat clenched tight in her fists. He placed a hand on top of her head, hunting for the words to say, and needing to say them so that she could understand.

"Father went away to find a way to cure Mother. You know that. The man said that there is no cure. Perhaps someone tricked him into thinking there was one, but we do not know if he spoke the truth." If she hadn't understood anything else of it, that was all for the better.

She abruptly burst into tears again. Magnus grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her out of her stupor.

"Stop that this instant! Are tears going to solve anything?"

"N-no…" she mewled, mopping her face with her sleeves. "But I'm s-scared!"

"It is fine to be scared, but you cannot simply shut down in the face of fear. I may not always be around to protect you, do you understand? It is shameful to be so dependent. What if you are on your own? What will you do then? Cry for me? That will do you no good when I am gone!" He was raising his voice with every word, his own eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall.

Rune continued to cry anyways, hanging onto him with her face buried in his clothing. Despite his harsh reprimand, he said nothing else to stop her.

It had to be a lie.

It had to be.

And yet Magnus felt in his very marrow that his life was no longer in his hands.

* * *

"Eat snowball, PUNK!"

Gray didn't even have half a second to turn around before a dense-packed ball of snow hit him hard enough in the face to cause him to lose his balance and reel backwards. He let out a feminine shriek, fought to keep upright, and then uttered a deep groan of pain as the impact finally ate through the numbness of the cold. Sniffling and wiping sludge off his face, he looked up to see Clair posing with a hand on her hip, a second snowball at the ready in her other palm.

"D-did you do that?! …You called me a punk?!" Gray whined, not too wounded to notice that she looked like a _goddess_ dressed in a light blue sweater dress and high-furred boots. "That's not like you, Clair!"

She tilted her head slightly, reared her arm back, and let the other snowball fly towards his face with the speed of a rocket. "Have another, you brute!" This one did knock him backwards, leaving him spread-eagled in the snow. A sadistic laugh rang out, reverberating off the silent blanket of white. Moments later, she was kneeling down busying herself with making a small armory of snowballs.

"Did you get him?" Alm scrambled out from behind a half-coated haybale, creeping towards Gray. His bright green eyes seemed touched with wonder at Clair's deadly aim. "Wow, he's down for the count."

"He sure is," she giggled. Her smile turned up just ever so slightly and she raised her wrist high enough to wipe the joy from Alm's face. "From the looks of it, the opposing team is completely eliminated. But then what am I to do with all of this ammunition?"

"…Clair?" Alm's mouth formed an 'O' of shock as a snowball whizzed past his head, just barely clipping his ear. He leapt back towards the safety of the haybale, but not before another one hit the back of his head hard enough to make him see spots. "CLAIR! What are you doing?! We're on the same team!"

"To the true victor goes the spoils, my dearest Alm! Surely you know by now that I always come out on top? There is no 'I' in team, therefore teamwork is not for me!"

If it weren't frozen outside, Alm would have been sweating in a panic. "C-clair, there's not even a prize, haven't you ever had a snowball fight?! This isn't that serious!" Alm dove behind a different bale, finding that it was already home to another hiding warrior. It was Clive. The former Deliverance headsman only rapidly shook his head from side to side, shushing Alm as he attempted to duck further down into the fresh snow.

"…Clive? Are you afraid to go out there?" Alm panted, genuinely shocked to see him in the empty field at all. Wasn't it a bit immature of him to even be participating? Especially considering that Lukas had declined to play and was holed up in Alm's house, busily handling mountains of paperwork sent by courier.

"Oftentimes, the best path to victory is one that involves laying low until your enemy tires herself out," he whispered this advice to Alm. "Now get away from me before she comes over here."

"Oh my, how dare you!" Clair shrieked suddenly, at odds with a new enemy. Alm felt brave enough to peek around the haybale just in time to see Luthier flick his wrist in Clair's direction. A turret of floating, powdery snowballs whipped through the air and dropped on her head, bursting into snowflakes upon impact. He certainly wasn't using the deadly force of Clair… but Luthier? Playing a game? With others? It was certainly a day of firsts.

"It would seem to me that you are out of the game," Luthier snarked, a smug grin attached to his pale face.

"…Yes, it does appear that way. I suppose I need practice." Clair's voice sounded sweet, far too sweet, as she brushed snow from her hair and off of her shoulders. "I shall have my pegasus hang you atop the tallest tree so that I can use your arrogant face as a target!"

"Excuse me…?" Luthier squawked, taking one wide step back. Clair rose her fingers to her lips and let out a piercing whistle, one that was immediately met with the sound of a distant whinny. Luthier tripped over his own boots sprinting away, but it seemed Clair wasn't one to leave a threat empty. Nor had she been bluffing about the pegasus thing.

In mere seconds a white blur of feathers and hooves split the gray skies, taking off after the dumbstruck mage as Clair strode off after the pair of them, cackling.

"Let's do something fun, he says…" Clive muttered. He shot Alm an accusatory look that softened into a smile. "Though I suppose whatever makes my sister happy can't be a terrible time."

The hero laughed. "No, you're dead wrong. This was a terrible idea. I think she broke Tobin's nose."

"Better Tobin than me," Clive scoffed. His eyes widened in realization of how absolutely piggish he had sounded. "...What I meant was, at least the captain of the opposing team was taken out."

"Actually, Kliff is the captain of the other team, but he's hiding at the library." Alm rubbed at his red nose, trying to wipe away the sting of the cold. "...Is that cheating?"

Clive smiled wistfully. "Clair will find him and she will show him no mercy, library be damned. You brought this fate upon your friends and family, Alm. Perhaps you had best confront her yourself before every building is leveled."

"Why me?" Alm's voice cracked, becoming no more than a squeak.

"A leader must be willing to make sacrifices."

"But this is a snowball fight, it's not-..." Alm halted his objection, burying his face into his gloved hands. "This is more terrifying than war." As if on cue, Luthier's cry of defeat echoed across the silent field; another one had fallen to Her Majesty, Queen of Winter.

* * *

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

A frozen grip squeezed Rune's wrist, jolting her from her half-sleep. The inky darkness of her room was lit only by the dim glint behind the eye holes of a gaunt, elongated mask, one that was only inches from her face. Upon instinct she tried to yank her arm back and scramble to the far side of her bed, letting out a gasp that was meant to be a scream. The thing's grip only tightened agonizingly, her bare skin burning so suddenly and so painfully that in that moment she would have taken her own arm off to free herself.

And then it let her go, leaving behind a fiery imprint of its grip that covered the small mark that had appeared after her struggle against the witch that had taken the place of her mother. Embers flickered from its gloved hand, fading into nothing as they drifted to her floor.

"Who are you…?" She managed to eke out a whisper, paralyzed with fear. The thing stood upright and leaned over her, close enough for her to catch the scent of burnt hair and some kind of cologne.

"Mother dearest was kind enough to mark you, it seems. How much is your soul worth?" It croaked, raising a hand as if to touch her face. "Soldier, or… you aren't much of a soldier these days, are you? Look at you, coiled in fear before me. Adella is with me here, you know. Your terror will one day bloom into a curse most magnificent. Have you far to fall?"

He spoke nonsense to her ears, but the very idea of that burning hand touching her again snapped her from her stupor. Rune lunged forward and felt her fist hit the solid mask, cracking the porcelain beak. In a half second the force was gone and she tumbled out of her bed from her own momentum, finding the intruder to have completely vanished.

She pushed herself up and blinked, looking around wildly. A flash of movement caught her eye. It was merely her reflection in the floor-length mirror on the back of her door. She raised her arm, expecting to see the white hot-pink burn glowing even in the darkness, but that and the pain that came with it had vanished. Only the teardrop white mark remained.

 _'It was a nightmare,'_ she rationalized, hearing the steady, loud snores from whichever stowaway Deliverance soldier was parked in the room across from hers. Python, most likely. _'But if it weren't, and someone broke in…'_

Without a second thought she slipped into shorts and grabbed her hunting knife, easing through her door as quietly as possible. Every other door was closed tight, save for the light spilling from the open bathroom door. A quick peek told her that the window in that room was still closed tight.

Every step down the staircase drew her back to the waking world, reassuring in its solid existence. It was only a nightmare. A simple nightmare. The pain was something rational; perhaps she had been sleeping on her arm and it had fallen asleep. That burning sensation had been pins and needles, obviously.

Except that it didn't feel like pins and needles.

Through the dark den and further on through the foyer, the front door stood wide open. Hinges creaked in the wind. Without a second thought she rushed towards it, slamming it shut and tossing the locks into place with shaking hands. Rune forced herself to stand on her toes and look through the semicircle of glass that served as a peephole, seeing nothing outside their home save for an empty stoop and layers of fog. The night sky was solid black, expansive and yet cloying in its darkness.

 _'It came right in. It walked right in. It was real. There's no way it wasn't real-'_ She could feel panic begin to rise once. The hardwood beneath her bare feet was slick with moisture from the outside air; it had been open for a while. Water trickled over her fingers, the frost that had collected on the doorknob melting beneath the warmth of her skin.

"What are you looking for?" Someone whispered over her shoulder.

She whipped around, brandishing her knife in both hands, choking on a scream that once again refused to be more than a quiet, strangled noise. In her panic she slipped on and landed awkwardly on her hip, feeling a jolt of pain run up her knee as the knife slipped from her hand and clattered precariously close to her thigh, making a ruckus until it came to rest flat on the floor. Instead of the dark beaked menace that she expected, she was met with only Forsyth, confused and quite frankly, afraid.

"Are you alright?! I didn't mean to startle you. Here, let me-…" He reached out to grab her forearm but she quickly pulled away, climbing back to her feet with the help of the wall. "...assist you. Or not. What's wrong?"

His concern ignored, she momentarily forgot that her family was asleep just above and snapped at him. "Did you open this damned door?!"

The soldier recoiled, a perplexed expression flashing onto his features for a moment. "It's freezing outside, what reason would I have for opening the door?" He seemed to reconsider after a moment. "Oh... Actually, Python came stumbling in about an hour ago. I was in the reading room. More than likely, he left it open behind him."

It hurt her lungs to breathe such a sigh of relief. "Right, then." She nodded warily, picking up her knife. She attempted to sheath it, but found her hands to be trembling too violently to be of any use.

"Why are you shaking? You're going to lose a finger, Lady Rune. Give that here," he demanded, reaching forward to take it away from her. She pulled back, but he confiscated it without much struggle despite her grunt of protest.

"I had a nightmare, nothing more, nothing less," Rune admitted with a tone meant to reassure herself. It was much less frightening to hear it out loud. As a matter of fact, it sounded silly. She was a rational person, and yet here she was telling some Deliverance super-soldier that she was spooked over what was most _certainly_ a dream. At least he wasn't laughing aloud. "I dreamt there was an intruder and went to check. You can imagine that seeing the door open frightened me."

"A dream has you that shaken up? Perhaps you underestimate myself and Python. I can assure you that with me around, you have nothing to fear. OH!" His face lit up immediately. "But if you feel you need protection of any kind, it's what I do for a living. Actually, it really is already a part of my duty, isn't it? I'm staying here, after all! Do you need a bodyguard?"

Rune felt wounded and humiliated. "I am perfectly capable of handling any and all affairs by my own strength, thank you. Besides, nothing happens here in Ram Village… for the most part. It was a bad dream. I don't think there is protocol on guarding someone from that."

"Right. Understood. Forget I asked." He gave a snappy salute. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to start coffee."

"It's four in the morning…" she muttered under her breath, attempting to ignore a nagging sensation that buzzed at the back of her head as he turned with a militant about-face and made his leave. it felt as if clusters of eyes were watching her through the peephole of the door just behind her, and she trotted after him away from the darkness. Wordlessly she sat down at the kitchen table, hands folded in her lap.

"I believe I can handle making a pot of coffee on my own, Lady Rune. You don't have to supervise me. You may as well go back to sleep."

"Right, yes, I suppose I should." Stiffly she rose and moved to the entryway, peering into the darkness of the den with her hands placed behind her back. It felt so incredibly childish, but she couldn't move her feet, couldn't even shuffle them forward enough to stand in the dark room. _'Look at you, coiled in fear before me,'_ her mind repeated, causing her lungs to tighten so painfully that she thought for sure she would asphyxiate on nothing. She jumped and let out a startled yelp as Forsyth brushed past, clicked on the den light for her, and went back to the kitchen wordlessly.

She turned to face him and started to argue to defend her honor, but blurting out "I'm not afraid of the dark!" seemed like it would be a crushing blow to her pride. Instead she jutted a thumb at the couch and stumbled over her words. It felt odd to ask permission to sleep on her own couch, but at least for the time being it was his. Some form of manners were due. Going back to her own room frightened her, at least while the sun still hid its comforting light. "Would you mind if I-..."

"Go right ahead, it's your house." Something cracked as he accidentally dropped Maria's percolator in the sink. "...whoops..."

"Thank you." She inched into the den, eyes scanning the corners of the room. She found it to be delightfully empty of both shadows and the beasts that existed within them. She curled herself up on her side beneath the borrowed blanket and glanced at her arm again, still feeling the phantom burn of the intruder's grasp, though there was nothing to show for her pain.

'A bad dream,' she thought fiercely, finding it easier to convince herself knowing that there was someone just on the other side of the wall a few feet from her. Fleeting, and terrible, but just a relic of a dream, unreal. The sun would be up soon.

* * *

 _A/N: I've been chopping bits and pieces of this up for a while and finally decided to put together what I do have so I can keep things moving forward. Thank you for the reviews that I've gotten, it really means a lot to me! And to the person who mentioned hating Maria and wondering why Rune tolerates her attitude, you'll be learning a bit more about her soon. You may or may not hate her more afterwards. One reason that Rune rarely speaks up to her is that this woman filled the role of her mother figure at a time when she didn't understand why her mother was no longer part of her life. That does account a bit for who Rune has become as an adult. She isn't physically affectionate and has a hard time integrating with people because of her lack of self-worth. Is this a bad thing? Well, even I don't know for sure. I feel like it's not entirely a bad thing? Not saying that Maria is a good mother, but that she's forced Rune to take care of herself, and maybe that's helped her be more mature. Just... I got you, fam. I've been working on a chapter with a bit of backstory in that regard so please stick around!_

 _Clair is the undisputed winter warrior and snowball deity. Mila, stand aside, there's a new goddess.  
_

 _Will go back and clean up this chapter later, it's late. G'night!_


	17. Adella and Wintertime

**One Star to the Next**

* * *

 **Ch. 17**

 **Adella and Wintertime, part I**

 _A/N:_ _Thank you all for your support, patience, and reviews! Just a small note though, if you ask a question and want me to respond, please log in! I appreciate it either way, but I also enjoy talking with you all and being able to answer questions.  
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 _Edit: Proofreading atm, bear with any mistakes, I'm hunting them down and sniping them._

* * *

"Adella, I'm home!" Maria shouted as she slid her heels off, nimble fingers pulling crystal pins from her tightly coiled hair. The noble took in the scent of baking bread as she shook off the cold from outside. She still found it ridiculous that she had to walk up a snowy drive to get to her own home, but it seemed the house help had more important things to do than to make sure the woman who provided them and their families with sustenance didn't get hypothermia. It was absurd, really, how many people underappreciated her.

Everyone knew her first husband was a lazy procrastinator; it was only from her pushing that he ever landed a position on the political scene in the first place. She make him from a wealthy fool to a lord who managed his finances well. She managed him so well, in fact, that after he died, his issues were settled in a way that left their family set for the future.

Not only that, but Maria was wise enough to quickly marry Oskar Melfia, a rich drifter with pockets lined with even more gold than her sorry first husband had ever touched. She married for money, yes, but not only money. After all, the Mefia family name was on the deed to a nearby city-state, meaning that if all went well, her and her daughter Adella would be provided for and eventually might inherit land. Land, of course, was something that was scarce so close to the border. Boorish farmers refused to sell their land to the capital, so marrying into land was one of the only ways to stake claim.

Yes, people truly did underestimate her.

A young girl, perhaps no more than fourteen, flitted into the room at her call. Much like her mother, silky black hair hung to her slim waist. Blue eyes twinkled from behind cat's-eye spectacles. Her smile set charming dimples into her porcelain features. "Hello, Mother! Did you enjoy the lunch I made?"

"No, darling, I couldn't possibly eat some homemade trite while the others ordered such expensive things. Wouldn't that just make me look silly?"

Adella tilted her head, looking disappointed. "I suppose so…" She watched as her mother let her hair free, hanging her Sunday hat on a hook. The words that she was about to relay weren't ones that would go over well, but she knew that something needed to be said. "Also, Mother, as you know, Lord Oskar is still handling the affairs at the Zofian border and… well, his daughter…" Adella cut her eyes downwards. "I'm starting to worry. She hasn't eaten a thing. It's been days."

"Has she been defiant?" Maria groaned, rolling her eyes. "I swear, that girl-…"

"No, nothing like that! She hasn't been fussy. Actually, that is what concerns me. She is not crying or disobeying, her behavior is just… odd. Tomorrow, I'd like to take her to town to see our family doctor."

"Adella, my sweet girl. Come here." Maria opened her arms, and hesitantly her daughter moved into them, baffled by the embrace. "I knew this marriage would be hard for you. I never imagined that my child would be having to take care of another. You deserve better than that."

Adella had a hard time finding the words to try and argue her mother without sounding defiant enough to send her into fits. It was always a delicate balance for the teen. "M-mother, it isn't a bother, she's my sister now. I'm not complaining about-…"

"Enough of that. You are at the age where men are going to want to court you. I can't have them thinking you're a housemaid, trotting about town with a nine year old clinging to your hand. It's unbecoming of a woman of your blood to run such menial errands."

Adella pulled out of her mother's double-edged hug, shaking her head. "Having a family is not a burden to me. Is that what you think? I'm quite happy to not be an only child anymore. Rune is curious and energetic, I've enjoyed our every day together. I don't understand why you refuse to treat her like family, as if a child has done anything to wrong you."

This backtalk seemed to irritate the noble. Her hands fell to her trim hips as her mouth set into a deep frown. Her only child was defying her to defend that unbecoming attachment that came along with her new husband? Maria felt betrayed. Unleashing an angry groan, she pushed past Adella and moved down the hallway, bare feet pattering on the cold hardwood as she rushed. She paused in front of the second door on the right and threw it open, one hand holding tight to a wad of her own petticoats to keep them from brushing across the floor. Stormy eyes fell upon the sight of her step-daughter taking care of her homework. She returned the stare with confusion plastered to her face and slid something underneath the textbook on her desk.

"You there, what is the matter with you? Have you been crying?" Maria demanded, crossing the threshold. She strode to Rundeltia's side and lifted her textbook, snatching up whatever she had hidden underneath. It was a photograph. Maria dropped the book back onto the desk with authority as she turned the picture to face her.

A chubby woman with white-blond curls was posed beside Oskar. The woman was holding tight to Rundeltia's hand, who was holding to the sleeve of a handsome older boy; one with sharp, stony features and waving beet-colored locks pinned back at the nape of his neck. Maria didn't need to ask, it was quite obviously a picture of Oskar's former family. She knew he had one, of course, but seeing them was an unexpected feeling that she couldn't quite understand. It wasn't betrayal; after all, she too had her own first family. And yet her jaw set with rage.

"I haven't been crying. Please don't take that away!" Rune's voice cracked in a panicked rush as she scrambled from her chair and started to reach for it. Maria tucked it away into her dress, still not sure why she was confiscating it in the first place. She turned on the girl with her manicured finger pointed at her nose.

"Enough of this attitude! What are you doing, skulking about and looking sad? You're upsetting Adella! What in blazes does a child like you have to be sad about? Look at all your toys, you spoiled thing! You live a life of luxury!"

Desperate to get her picture back from her step-mother's clutches, she wailed an apology. "I didn't know! I didn't mean to, Adella. I'm sorry!"

"…Mother, it's not…" Adella stood in the door-frame with her arms wrapped tight around herself. She cut her step-sister an apologetic glance, hoping that she wouldn't think that she was in trouble on her account.

"I've told you this before." Maria continued as Rune mopped her tears into her sleeves. She grabbed the girl's chin and turned her misty hazel eyes up to her own. "When you act this way, everyone around you feels miserable. Do I look happy? Does Adella look happy? Hm? Does your father ever look happy?"

She shook her head from side to side, wordless.

"That's right. If you want your family to be happy, stop forcing them to take extra care of you. Do you not think that we all have more important matters to attend to? Did this mother in this picture not teach you manners, or right from wrong?"

Rune's real mother most certainly had taught her right from wrong. She knew which foul words not to say, how to act at the dinner table, yes ma'am, no sir, to always thank the servants, to keep her nails clean, to never shout indoors or at grown-ups, to always obey her brother… but none of that seemed to be what Maria wanted. Everything made Maria upset with her. Adella was kind and patient and even willing to play with her, but Maria was right. Looking up at her now, Adella didn't look happy. And when she caught Rune looking at her, Adella turned her gaze to the floor, looking more displeased than ever.

Had Rune done that? Was her own sadness was making Adella sad, like it was a contagious disease? "I really didn't know. I'm sorry, Maria…"

"I see." She stood upright, forcing a bitter smile. "Well, should you want me not to be angry, call me Mother instead of Maria. Don't you think you'd like that? Your father would be glad to hear it as well. The next time you want to pout about your old family and be ungrateful for this new one, keep it to yourself. Is that clear? Say 'Yes, Mother.'"

The child couldn't bring herself to respond. Something about that felt wrong, but she certainly didn't want to make anyone else upset. The words refused to pass her lips. When she did make an attempt to force what Maria wanted to hear, only tears sprung forth. Ashamed, she dashed them away on her sleeves, and hid her face, waiting for Maria to leave.

Maria's smile faltered as she moved to the door, looking back for a moment. "Suit yourself, it was only a suggestion. I can see you are the kind of selfish girl who cares only for her own happiness. It's best you keep away from the other children at school; if given the chance, they will see that miserable streak and want nothing to do with you."

Adella waited until she could hear her mother moving about in the kitchen before she entered Rune's room, perching on the bed frame beside the desk where her new sister sat silently crying. Gingerly she reached out and placed a hand on the little girl's shoulder, pulling her fingers back when Rune jolted upright, snatching away from her touch. She seemed dazed, confused by Adella's presence.

"Please don't say anything. Just let me cry a little longer, okay? I promise I'll stop!" Her eyes were wide with horror.

"Rune, I'm not going to tell Maria on you." She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, looking uncomfortable. "But you can open up and talk to me. Mother is wrong about many things, but she does have a bit of a point. You can have anything you want, and Mother nor the servants have ever hit you. There are many children out there who are not so lucky. The least you can do is tell me what you're upset about so I can understand you."

She scrubbed at her eyes, her voice a weak whisper as she fought to keep her voice down. "Magnus used to hold my hand when we would walk through snow so we wouldn't slip. When I walked to school today, I reached for my brother's hand. Then I remembered he can't do that anymore." She shook her head, face buried in her hands again. "A-and Miss Signora? She brought my lunch and her perfume was… it was just like Mother's…"

"I see." Adella felt a pained smile touch her lips as she brushed Rune's soft curls back from her tear-streaked face. "I think I understand."

"…Are you mad?"

"Not at all. Would you like me to hold your hand on the way to school?"

"You would…?"

"You're my family now. If you want, I will hold your hand each and every day until I pass away from old age. And then, my ghost will come back and hold your hand." Her gentle smile became playful. "And my ghost will also scare away the closet demon that you're so frightened of, too."

Rune let out a small gasp, a wrinkle of concern appearing between her eyebrows. It was uncanny and a bit comedic, seeing such a small person make such a serious, stony expression. "…You know about that?"

"Big siblings know everything, even if they're only in-training. Besides, girls your age never sleep with the closet light on. I thought you might have had it on because you were frightened."

Rune gave Adella a skeptical look. "My brother told me that demons would be too scared of him to even come into our house. But this house… it's not the same. I think demons could hide in here if they wanted to, you know? Without Magnus, there's nothing for the demons to be scared of."

"My goodness, are you saying that I am not scary enough?" Adella laughed. Rune didn't laugh back, clearly this wasn't a joking matter.

"You're the nicest person in the whole world. The demons would just think that you would be kind to them, so even MORE demons could be hiding in this house. Don't you think so?"

"I… I think you might have given this a little too much thought, Rune. If more demons came here because they wanted someone to be nice to them, then they wouldn't hurt you. Isn't that right?"

She seemed to consider this deeply. Thankfully it seemed her tears had dried up and she was back to her normally inquisitive self. "Maybe, but demons can't be trusted. They might be trying to trick you."

"Rune…" Adella shook her head, a lovely smile set on her face. "Let's worry about all of that if and when we meet a demon, okay? We can judge his character then."

She gave a firm nod, rolling the thought of demons and their friendliness around in her busy little mind for a few more minutes. Her hazel eyes looked turbulent. Adella went to reach forward and stroke her back to comfort her, but gingerly this time, knowing how she had shied away moments ago. This time, Rune lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Adella's corset, squeezing her tight in a hug.

* * *

"Alm, might I have a word?"

The hero, bent over in front of his oven with his arms folded impatiently, jumped at the call of Lukas's clear voice. He smacked his head on the handle as he shot upright, turning on his heel to see the redhead standing with his usual attentive posture and accompanying frown.

"Oh, hey there, Lukas. You're up earlier than usual."

"I could say the same of you." Lukas tilted his head as he glanced at the warm light coming from the over window. "You're baking something? I had no idea you were an accomplished cook."

"I wouldn't say accomplished. Every weekend, when the fields were stripped and wool and milk were sent out, my grandpa would bake me and my friends full loaves of fresh bread. It was kind of his own Mycen way of saying we did a good job for the village. Since it's the first Saturday, I thought I would try… you know, for old time's sake!" He brushed his fingers through his disheveled hair sheepishly. "I'm not so hot at it. Can't get it to rise right, haha…"

Lukas's stony face broke into a small, albeit handsome smile. "That's very thoughtful of you. Your friends are lucky to have you, Alm." His frown returned. "Unfortunately, there are some things that we need discuss immediately. I hate to sour the mood..."

"Oh, okay. Uh, have a seat, I guess." Alm's eyes studied Lukas as the two of them sat at the familiar wooden table. He hunted his face for any sign of clues, but Lukas was an impossible man to read. "If I'm not going to like this, might as well let it fly."

"Right." Lukas folded his hands neatly, professional looking as always. He looked like an employer giving an interview. "I believe someone has given word that we plan to march on Rigel. Rumors are abound that Rigel is rallying their forces in anticipation of our march in spring. Not only that, but seeing Sir Clive in Ram Village has apparently brought forth rumors that the Deliverance is backing down to redouble our efforts; the people believe us weak and in need of recovery."

"What?" Alm's hands clenched into fists. "But that's… we aren't weakened, but who would send word about us marching into Rigel? We didn't pass the border! We didn't declare any sort of plan to attack! As far as the Rigelians know, we chased them out of our home and that's that."

"I know. We have all been careful not to use the word war in this downtime that we have. But as you know, Fernand has been a hot button topic with Sir Clive, and they have had altercations every time he has shown his face. It wouldn't be farfetched of him to try and defend the strength of the Zofian army "

"You think Clive might have said something?" the boy's brow furrowed. "Gods… Clive, of all people, being the one to toss out a threat just because the enemy used to be his closest friend. Was it really him?"

"That is of little importance right now. The issue is what the populace has heard. 'The Deliverance is backing down, the Deliverance is weakened, Rigel could march us any day.' These are the fears of the ill-informed people."

Alm released a deep sigh, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "I could stand in the town square and tell the whole world that everything will be alright, but that won't allay their fear if they don't see proof. I need your guidance, Lukas. What would you do?"

The soldier seemed taken aback. "You want my opinion on how to handle the situation?"

"Of course I do." A fire flashed in Alm's eyes, one that Lukas had only witnessed when his creed was challenged. "Clive is a good man, but he does everything out of self-interest. He is a beacon of peace who says he doesn't value station of birth, but look at the situation with Delthea and Mathilda. It was the exact same, but who did he try to convince me not to save? When faced with a problem, he tries to find a solution that is best for his people, not all people. You, Lukas, are rational and trustworthy. You tell me like it is, even if I'd hate to hear it. I value that, and I know you'd never give me an answer that just benefits you."

There was a moment of silence as Lukas processed this. He could only shrug and shake his head ever so slowly, unable to conjure up the proper feelings of gratitude. "I don't know what to say, Alm… I'm honored you value my voice so much. It's truly quite something."

"You're my friend, Lukas. Of course your voice matters to me." Alm laughed weakly. A loud ringing interrupted the peaceful quiet; the egg timer going off. "Oh, hold that thought!" He jumped to his feet and opened the oven, letting out a quiet noise of awe at the sight of his own creation. Lukas couldn't really tell if it was a good noise or a bad noise.

As if summoned by the bell, there was a loud knock on the door, a POUND-POUND-POUND before it was thrown open and the entryway was filled by Tobin, Gray, Kliff, and Faye. It was Tobin who spoke first, as always.

"Hey, buddy! Gray said he smelled something goin' on at your house and rounded us all up!" His jovial face fell upon Lukas's bemused one. "Oh, morning Luke! Enjoying your stay at casa de Alm-o?"

"It was very kind of him to allow me to stay," Lukas responded robotically.

"You were the one cooking, Alm?" Faye squeezed past the boys as Alm pulled a fresh (albeit, lightly toasted) load of bread from the oven, grinning from ear to ear. Faye looked a tad disappointed. "Oh, we thought…" She halted her words, deciding that it might upset him. "Nevermind, it looks great, really!"

"We thought that maybe Mycen was back. That's the only reason I bothered to come." Kliff finished Faye's thought for her, receiving a jab in the ribs from Gray.

"Kliff, do you TRY to be so cruelly tactless or does it come natural? You're such an ass!" Gray whispered furiously, causing the blond to roll his eyes.

"It's called honestly. And yes, it's natural. Ass."

"Hey!" Tobin whirled around. "Don't call Gray an ass when you're the one being an ass! It just makes you look like a bigger ass!"

"GUYS!" Alm barked, rallying the attention of all four. They stared at him, waiting for him to speak as if anticipating a dramatic revelation. "…Hey, it's alright. I miss him, too." It was all he could offer, but it seemed to pacify them. Alm didn't catch the warm half-smile on Lukas's face.

"After the war has ended, I'm sure Mycen will enjoy his retirement back at home with all of you," the redhead offered. Alm started carving his way through the bread, making horribly uneven slices as his mind wandered.

"You think it'll really be that way, Lukas…? After this, for all of us to go back to the way things were…"

"Do you not want that, Alm?" Faye's brown eyes searched his profile curiously. "Ram Village is home, isn't it? I can't imagine living anywhere else. Especially after all of the other places we've seen. So many villages are less fortunate."

"U-um…" Caught off guard, Alm had no response. How was it even possible to explain what he was feeling? His calling wouldn't end with some war. There was something else, something more important than finding quick victory and then retiring. But would it be wrong to tell that to his friends? Gray, especially, would probably only laugh at the idea of a "higher calling." He chose to keep it to himself, leaving an awkward silence in the air.

"This seems like a great opportunity to make a couple of announcements." Lukas cleared his throat, garnering the attention of the villagers. "I do know that you have fought hard and have set forth a change in the world just from the work you have already done, but… it is in the best interest of the Deliverance and the coming spring encounters that we do not call ourselves war heroes. As a matter of fact, we need not speak of the Deliverance outside of council."

"Huh? But literally everyone in the village knows who we are! Why would we keep it quiet all of a sudden?!" Tobin butted in.

A lecherous grin spread across Gray's features. "Yeah, it's a little late for that. Every woman in the village is throwing themselves at us, or had you not noticed? I've heard them ask about you, too, Lukey-boy."

"I did not join the Deliverance in the interest of gaining attention," he responded coolly. "I know the villagers are very familiar with us now. They're your friends and family. But for good reason, let us keep traders and merchants from spreading our location. Ram Village and northern Zofia would be at risk of invasion if Rigel thought we had fallen back due to weakness."

"But we did fall back because of weakness. The Deliverance wasn't prepared for the climate. It shows that we moved forward at a bad time of the year, and reflects badly on the tacticians, doesn't it?" Kliff folded his arms, cocking an eyebrow at Lukas. "That would be Alm, Clive… and you, right? The main three that make up the war council."

A rare emotion flickered on Lukas's face, perhaps shame or embarrassment. "Well, it is true that my job is to council Alm, but ultimately the responsibility of the decisions…"

"It's my fault." Alm dropped the cutting board of bread down into the center of the table with authority. "Don't try to shoulder the blame, Lukas. I'm inexperienced, I know this. I make hasty decisions, but I'm still learning to come up with solutions for the problems that it causes." He sat down, letting out a chuckle. "I know you think you're smarter than me, Kliff. But instead of criticizing Lukas, don't bite your tongue when you think we've done something wrong. Instead of watching us make poor or hasty decisions, correct us. It doesn't matter who is a noble and who isn't.

"Alright." Kliff shrugged, squaring his shoulders as a kitchen full of ears gave him the floor. "The Deliverance needs to be bigger. You should have taken this entire trek back to add as many new soldiers as you could, and they could have had the winter to train. And don't hide our achievements or pretend we're not heroes. Let the rumors fly, but spread your own, too. Say that the Deliverance was last spotted in the deserts or mires of eastern Zofia."

"Uh, why?" Tobin spoke over a mouthful of food. "That might provoke them to invade."

"They would be walking into impossibly low desert temperatures, or deadly frozen quicksand in the swamps to the east. Not only that, but there's nobody there: no towns, no villages. Either they fall for the trap and delegate forces to their own death, or they stay in Rigel and wait for us to walk into their territory."

"Sometimes I forget that he's smart," Gray quipped.

"So we should be looking for people willing to fight? I just don't know… if there were more people in Ram willing to fight, they would have left with us, right? Asking is putting a lot of pressure on them to leave their families. The Deliverance is running at a hundred men strong, but over half of them have nothing else to do but fight. Imagine if we started asking fathers and mothers to leave their children when the land is dying…"

"Don't look so dejected, Alm. They always have the option of saying no. Now is not the time to be passive."

"I know, Lukas… it's just…"

Kliff reached across the table and grabbed a slice of bread. The minute he felt how solid it was, he dropped it back down with a look of distaste, dusting crumbs off of his hands. "You can't be a pushover right now, is what Lukas means to say." His face grew hot as everyone waited to see if he had anything else to say. "...That's it. Anyways, I've got some errands to run."

"Oh! Will we see you at the festival tomorrow?" Faye piqued up before Kliff could escape out the door.

"Festival…?"

"You know, the fireworks in the field! You're going to do them this year, right Alm? We might be in Rigel this time next year!" She turned her pleading eyes to Alm. "My parents didn't shoot any last year because they wanted to save them all for when we came back!"

"OH, hell yeah, this will be the first time I'll have a date!" Gray slapped his knee in joy, giving a victorious snort. Tobin tried not to choke, shooting Gray a bewildered stare.

"What? Who?"

"Uh, Clair? DUH?! Are you dense, Tobin?"

"Oh, I'M the dense one? Clair would never be your date! Besides, I'm going to ask her first!"

"Like hell you will!"

"Guys…" Alm laughed. "Fireworks in a cow field doesn't really require a date, you know… it's not even an actual festival."

"You don't think it's romantic, though?" Faye sighed, her cheeks flushing with color.

"Not really."

"Oh, then I guess it isn't..." She muttered under her breath, toying with a braid.

"If Clair says yes to either of you, then I'll go." Kliff quipped. "Anyways, like I said, I've got things to do. See you around."

"It was good to see you, Kliff." Lukas mumbled weakly. He sounded defeated, perhaps from being in such close proximity to so many shouting villagers all at once. Kliff offered a wave and shrug, pulling his scarf tighter around himself as he went back into the chilly air. When he pushed the door closed with his foot, it bounced right back open. Tobin was following him out. Of course he was.

"Hey, Kliff? I kinda know what you're thinking. Can I come along?" Tobin dropped an arm around Kliff's shoulders, making his brisk walk nearly impossible.

"What am I thinking, wise Tobin?" Kliff rolled his eyes.

"You're going to ask your friend to be your date? How come you haven't let me meet her? I mean, it's not like she's your property."

"I don't give a damn about the stupid festival, I was going to ask her about the Deliverance. Besides, there's too much moisture in the air, half of the fireworks won't even light. And I haven't FORCED you not to talk to her. Do whatever you want."

Tobin finally let go of Kliff and zipped his coat up to his chin. "Doesn't this feel just like when we left? Me and you just chatting and talking, you being in denial and me being me. Feels nice to not worry about when we might get ambushed or killed, right?"

"Who knows, we still could…" Kliff muttered into his scarf. Tobin either didn't hear him or chose not to. he had set about his jovial chattering.

"I haven't seen that girl in a year. I used to see her around town all the time, but I was no good at talking to girls back then. Seriously. Not even a word. Is she cute? I mean, has she gotten cuter since we've been gone? I don't really remember what she looked like."

"I guess I haven't really thought about it, Tobin. And don't… ugh. Don't say anything embarrassing. I know you're going to find a way, but try not to make her hate me." It was then that Kliff realized he was nervous about the prospect of the two of them meeting. How they got along wouldn't be his issue, he told himself. And yet if Tobin and Rune proved to be natural enemies by their nature, it would be disappointing. Why did it matter? It didn't. Their friendship, their business. He would just be the miserable one between them if they didn't hit it off.

The situation felt as tense as when he had brought home a stray cat and had to acclimate it to his mother's dog. The cat had tried to hide, hissing in fear as the dog chased it under furniture and cornered it. Tobin was certainly more of a barking idiot canine than an independent cat. As Kliff recalled, his mom made him get rid of the cat because she claimed it wasn't friendly.

Well, it wasn't like he would have to get rid of one of his friends.

Tobin was still blabbering on. "Hey speaking of cute… Faye looked really cute today, huh? I mean, she never really looks like a girl, but she was wearing makeup and her old clothes instead of armor."

"She didn't wear it for you to notice, Tobin."

"Huh? Oh, wait… Lukas, huh? Geez, everybody around here is into Lukas. Even my Ma asked who the cute ginger stud was."

"Not mine. She's been obsessed with Luthier and Delthea from the moment she saw them." His grin was all but sadistic. "I hate the way she dotes on me, but seeing it happen to someone else is pretty funny."

"You're kinda heartless, Kliff. I guess you and Lu have that in common. That guy can be such a jerk!" Tobin's eyes swept up towards the trees, which were beginning to block out the warmth of the thin sunlight. His gaze fell from above to ahead, where a quaint enough brick home sat in a clearing at the end of the dirt road. There was no doubt in his mind that he had broken the windows in this particular house with arrows while hunting nearby before, especially considering how close it was to the best hunting spot in the village. He cringed, wondering if he would be recognized as the hit-and-run shooter.

Two figures were standing outside beside the house. Tobin recognized Python immediately, his blue hair unmistakable. He was slouched, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, head tilted back to watch the other pulling small garments off of a clothesline. His accomplice was a woman a bit shorter than himself, her long, pinkish hair falling to her mid-back. She was yanking a myriad of colorful underwear down from the line and hastily stuffing it into a basket at her feet.

"Heya, buddy!" Tobin spoke up, blissfully oblivious to the fact that Kliff had opened his mouth and had half a greeting out before Tobin announced himself. He raised his hand to high-five Python, but the archer only stared, one eyebrow raised, letting Tobin's hand falter. "Wow, leaving me hanging…"

"Speaking of hanging…" Kliff cleared his throat, nodding at the clothesline.

"Don't." Rune snapped, not even turning around to grace any of them with a proper reaction. She reached for a bra, only to have a strong gust send it fluttering in the air like a valiant flag. The sound that passed her lips was a half-sob, half-groan of agony. "Don't you have something better to do, Python?"

"Nope, nothin' on my list is more entertaining than watching you chase down frozen panties, kid."

She stood on her tiptoes and swiped at a pair of pink ones, managing to pull them down. There was a crunch as she broke the ice and folded the completely frozen garment in half. It was followed by a soft wheeze from Python.

" _Snap._ Oh man, that sound gets me every time."

Kliff was at a loss for words. "Is anyone going to explain…"

"Sure! Queen Bitch- I mean, Maria- told me that if I wanted to stay I had to start earnin' some keep, so I thought I'd do her a favor and wash all the sadness out of her frilly things. Guess I got ahold of Gloomy's ladybits instead." Accident or not, Python seemed pretty proud of himself.

"Who is Gloo-…" Kliff didn't need to finish his question. Python jutted his thumb at Rune, and Kliff nodded in agreement. That made perfect sense. "Oh. So that's your underwear, Rune?"

Her voice was a snappy hiss. "I am not going to answer that, Kliff."

Tobin snorted. "Do you want me to help you get the rest down? The lacy ones are pretty high up there…"

Rune finally stopped and turned around, a look of utmost offense plastered onto her red face. She looked from Tobin to Kliff to Python and then back to Tobin. "…How dare you! Who are you?"

"Oh!" He smacked himself in the forehead playfully. "Duh, of course! I didn't introduce myself. I'm Tobin! Kliff's best friend? Pretty sure you've heard a lot about me. I mean, I've heard a ton about you!" Brown eyes gave her a studious once over. "I kinda didn't expect you to have a cute accent. Kliff makes you sound like some brutish, beefy monster. My girlfriend, Clair, she's kinda got an accent too, and-…"

"Whoah, wait! Clair? You're datin' Clair?" Python interrupted.

"…Yes?" Tobin eked, not sounding even the tiniest bit sure of himself. The more people thought it as a fact, the more likely it would be possible, maybe? He expected Python to call him out, but the man only bobbed his head, arms folded as he considered it. Was he seriously that gullible?

"Damn, you're a lucky kid. Congrats on that one, she's a catch."

Tobin swiveled his eyes over to Kliff, daring him to argue it. He only rubbed his temples, completely at a loss for words that could describe the depth of Tobin's stupidity. So Python believed him, Rune didn't know any better, and Kliff was too disgusted with him to object. That made three people; a good start!

Python let out a grubby sneeze, wiping his nose on his sleeve. His lazy expression was touched with mischief. "Yeah, I've been off my game lately with these village chicks. Usually they're falling all over us guys in armor, but I've only had my lunch paid for once since we've been here. Forsyth, on the other hand, seems to be on his game."

"What's that mean?" Kliff dared to ask.

"Well, let's see. this mornin' I was informed that I would be sleepin' on the couch instead of in the spare room, as per the request of a certain young lady. And then Oskar tells me that I can't stay in the house at all if I walk around in my birthday suit, tells me to be more like Forsyth. Then of course, Momma comes and yells at me, callin' me a slob, when I'm the one out there fightin' for her country. Still don't really know what I did to get demoted from my room…"

"That has nothing to do with you." Rune snapped, finally picking her basket up from the ground. The line was free at last, but it wasn't likely that her underwear would thaw anytime soon. "And Father has an incredibly valid point, you cannot just strut about with your-… w-without any clothes…" She halted, face flushed. "…Revolting. I never want to see that again."

"Eh. Nothing to get up in arms about, it's just a body. Besides, who puts on pants to go take a piss in the middle of the night? Seems like a waste to me."

"Probably anybody who runs the risk of being seen?" Kliff added, earning an amused grin from Python.

"Guess you got me there." Bored with the banter, Python stretched, loudly popped his back, and started to make his way back in the house. Before getting too far, he stopped and grabbed the basket from Rune, who let out a squawk of objection. "Least I can do is wash 'em again. Don't want the color to fade, do you?"

"Don't you dare, I-..." She wanted to bite back and shout at him but decided that humoring him would only give him more reason to stick around and embarrass her. It took a great deal at biting at her cheek to remain silent until Python was back inside. The minute he was out of earshot, she let out a deep, frustrated sigh, kicking a snowdrift. It exploded into gentle puffs of flakes.

The entire encounter had tickled Kliff to death, though he was more than content to sit back and watch his friend suffer rather than offer any sort of comfort. Besides, Python had embarrassed him so many times that it felt like a natural, healthy thing to see him do the same to someone else. At least the time off wasn't changing who he was as a person. A lazy, good for nothing, gross person. Funnily enough, he knew Rune was slow to anger, which just made her an even bigger target for Python. Kliff had no doubt that it would be his end goal to make her mad enough to either attack him or cuss him out.

Tobin, on the other hand, would probably manage to do that in half the speed of Python, and completely unintentionally. "Hey, uh, you never really introduced yourself to me, you know? You're kinda failing to acknowledge me, here. I'm a people, too."

"Oh…" She cleared her throat, trying not to come across as aloof. "I'm Rune. Please do not think of this encounter as the normative, you just came at a most humiliating time…"

The boy grinned from ear to ear, hands on his hips and chest thrust out with pride. In the vein of normative, it wouldn't take long for her to realize that this was the normal for Tobin; jabbering shamelessly and misplaced confidence. "No big deal. Hey, that reminds me! Kliff wanted to ask you something."

Rune looked uncomfortable, her brow furrowing in worry as she folded her hands neatly. "It takes two to ask me? Why do I feel like this is going to be something unpleasant..."

"Don't look so worried, he just wanted to see if you wanted to join-…"

"Tobin!" Kliff's sharp tone shocked his bewildered friend into silence. "Uh, there's a festival, kind of a tradition where we shoot fireworks in the fields. It's more annoying than festive. You'll have to sit out in the cold and listen to my idiot friends interrogate you." He glared daggers at Tobin, who shrank back and shrugged apologetically, giving an inquisitive head tilt.

Despite the fact that he had only come out of his way to ask her about joining the Deliverance, he hesitated to ask in front of Tobin. Not that it made any sense. It wasn't a particularly sensitive question, and her answer didn't really matter. And yet it had been easier to ask her to a festival that he cared nothing about than ask her to fight for her own country.

Huh. Weird.

"Well when you sell it so well, how could I say no? I actually do know what you're talking about. I watch it every year from my roof. I clean off the snow during the day of, and then I roll out my blanket and hang my lantern and read all of my favorite lines from my favorite books by the light of the fireworks, and..." realizing that she was talking too fast, she cut herself off. Tobin's face was splitting into a huge grin.

"You're a nerd!" he announced, not saying it as an insult but rather as if he had just discovered a new species of animal and was damned proud of it. "Wow, I can't believe it! I have like, four nerd friends now!"

Kliff raised his eyebrows. "That's better than hanging out with Tobin and Gray. I could just come over tomorrow and bring some of the books I picked up from a northern village." He looked a tinge smug, his voice rising into a taunting lilt. "I found first editions of books that you could only dream of reading. Now my collection makes your library look like a discount store."

"Hey, what the hell, man? You can't just bail on me! What if I can't find a date? Then I'll be at the festival alone!"

Kliff rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. I mean, don't you have a girlfriend to go with? I would _hate_ to be a third wheel."

Tobin puffed his cheeks out in anger, having nearly forgotten that he had claimed to be dating Clair only minutes ago. It wasn't like he could back out of his lie now. If Rune told Python, then Python would tell Clive, and then Clive would tell Clair, and then Clair… he didn't want to think about what Clair would do. Not that Rune and Python ever really had much to say to one another, but Tobin had no way of knowing that. She was nevertheless a part of the brittle chain that could get him into trouble with his bluff.

"Oh, uh, good point. You'd just be in the way!" He agreed weakly. "You have fun sitting out in the dark with, like, nobody to talk to."

Rune let out a dejected and dramatic sigh. "But he'll be with me. You already think I'm nobody? I can't say that I'm surprised, but it's a bit harsh to say it aloud in front of me, isn't it?"

"Oh! Uh, w-wait, that's not what I meant to say. Or just not out loud. Or- no, I meant it out loud, but not those words exactly. ...Uhhmmm..." Tobin looked pain, his handsome face screwing up as he tried to utter some form of apology. It took a good few seconds of staring at her half-smile before he caught on. "Oh, you were being sarcastic! ...Uh, right? I think."

Kliff turned a smart-ass smile to Tobin, dropping a hand on his hip. "She's dead serious. Way to insult her, Tobin. Is this how you talk to girls? How did you even get Clair to like you in the first place? Why don't you tell us that very true story, actually…"

"Uh, here's an idea, maybe shut the hell up?!" Tobin's voice was a defensive squawk.

"What's your problem? I asked a question, that's all."

One would think that Tobin would know when Kliff was teasing him, considering the years of torment they had both put each other through, and yet he managed to fall for it nearly every time and get worked up into a frothing, screaming mess over nothing. Thankfully his tantrum was short lived; he was cold and hungry. He burned out in less than a minute, dissolving from enraged bickering down to whining about his growling stomach, nagging at Kliff to leave until the boy finally gave in.

As she watched them go, Rune couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. For all of Kliff's apparent disinterest, he was popular and well liked by people that knew him far better than she did, people from all over Zofia. Her own mind, accompanied by the silence of snow, proved to aggravate that lonely feeling.

Her anxieties stemmed from fear. An instinctual nagging in the pit of her stomach had set in when she visited the manor and brought her father home. It was a feeling that buried inside of her and took root so that it could send signals through her like a sixth sense. It was an impending sense of dread, the understanding that something bad was going to happen, but she had yet to decipher what it was.

Dread aside, it seemed she had a date tomorrow.

* * *

 _A/N: Hello! I had to chop this one up as well, it just ended up too long and I had to completely remove bits and pieces. Kind of a simple chapter; more busy in the way of backstory and a bit of chatting, but those are actually fun to write. I have a lot of things to touch up and edit but I'll go ahead and post it for now. I also got a kick out of you guys IMMEDIATELY jumping ship with Forsyth like judgmental moms saying stuff like "he's such a nice guy" or "HE'S NICER THAN KLIFF." I loved that omg. Anyways, I'm off to get some work done. Goodnight everyone!_


	18. Regroup

**_One Star to the Next_**

 ** _Chapter 18_**

 ** _Regroup_**

* * *

 ** _A/N: Hi, it's been 30 years and so I needed a little bit of regrouping of my own to set things back in the right stride. Thanks for the support that I've received, and though there is very little forward action in this chapter, I hope it reaffirms the way Kliff has changed a bit and lays the groundwork for some future things I have going on. Next chapter will be Adella and Wintertime II, in which we learn a little more about the speaking crow. These kind of chapters are important, but I really can't wait to get to the next one. Enjoy, and thank you for your patience!_**

* * *

 _'I know that it's a nightmare.'_

 _'Then wake yourself up!'_

 _'I can't. I've been trying, but I can't.'_

 _Rune winced as the crow's talons sank into her bare shoulder, pricking small holes through her skin that beaded with blood around the carrion birds' claws. A lonesome lowing noise came from its parted beak, almost as if it were speaking to her._

 _Which of course it was, for this was just a dream where birds could talk. And yet even tossing and turning in her physical body, she couldn't shake herself free from it. Instead her bare feet kept walking, crunching over hard-packed snow and sharp sticks._

 _'Why are you in rags? Where are your clothes?' The bird spoke without speaking. Rune only draped her arms over her bare chest for warmth and modesty. 'Vulnerable. Vulnearble. Weak-' the animal seemed to be chanting, those sharp claws tearing at her flesh as it remained hitched to her. Now that she was covering her front, her back seemed so very exposed, as if asking for a clawed beast to rend the muscle between her shoulders._

 _'Who will come to your aid?' The creature asked. Rune thought on this, unsure of how to answer._

 _'I just need someone to shake me awake.'_

 _'And when the accursed comes? There is no waking from His nightmare.'_

 _Somewhere in the distance a church bell tolled. As it droned it seemed to drop in pitch until the sound was a dull, deep buzzing, and then it chimed again. Birds took flight from their nests, screaming into the blackened sky. They could warn one another, but the human girl below them couldn't understand their songs._

 _'He's here,' said the crow, in a bird voice that she could understand, at least._

 _'Who is he? Can he see me?' She could feel heart begin to throb painfully against her crossed arms, so strong and loud that it was almost as if she were holding it in her own hands._

 _'He has been behind you since you arrived here.'_

 _'Can he hurt me if I know this isn't real?' Rune's voice was a whimper. The sound of footsteps behind her became hoofbeats, shaking the earth. How had she not heard something before?_

 _The crow didn't answer. It turned one black eye to look into Rune's own and then ascended with the other birds, leaving her completely alone. The hoofbeats were coming closer, shaking loose snow from the treetops onto her shoulders. She turned to face the noise suddenly, feeling a weight drop into her hands. Rune glanced down: an axe? Was this from the crow? How would she cover herself if she had to fight?_

 _The thing running at her was a man clad in armor, the very same one from before. What was his name... Grent, Gho-... Gaunt. The one who set after her when she managed to escape from the den of witches before. She recognized the pained breathing and the rotting stench of blood, just the same as it was the night when she first killed another human._

 _Of course, she knew exactly what to do this time. Gaunt charged, armor gleaming dully in the darkness, thunder rumbling louder than the animalistic sounds of his heavy boots on the crunchy underfloor. That giant body was like a bull with steam pouring from holes in the mask, his own spear raised to kill. He was a captor who has stolen her dignity, etching an eternal reminder of his sickness on her face by the scar made as he fell dying._

 _It was a memory she had all but stored away, but there was a reason why she grew cold at the sight of men in armor. Seeing it again now filled her with something new; intent to kill. Last time, she was broken by fear and barely escaped. This time, she knew the man's goal was to exstinguish her life and break her soul. Her teeth clenched in rage as she raised her axe and swung it downwards diagonally, feeling satisfaction at the way it easily tore through the plates in his armor and clinked against bone after slicing away his flesh._

 _Had it been so easy before? She really couldn't say._

 _With a scream and great effort, she dislodged her axe and held it against her bare chest. Gaunt fell to his knees before her, horribly and coincidentally in the perfect position for her to finish him._

 _'Take back your dignity,' a voice cooed, one that didn't belong to the bird. It sounded like her own, but there was a madness to the tone that couldn't have been hers._

 _'That isn't necessary. He isn't even the leader, just a sick executioner,' Rune reasoned. 'This is enough. He's already died once.'_

 _'You had never known agony until you were at the mercy of both him and those witches. Those women that were once human, sold and stolen away from their homes. Mothers, daughters, now monsters. He was the one who brought them there. He is the guilty one.'_

 _'But he isn't-...'_

 _'He isn't the only one. But is he blameless?'_

 _Her fingers tightened around the axe. '...He is not.'_

 _'Who is to blame?'_

 _'I truly don't know!' She screamed, exhausted of the mental battle._

 _'Then punish him in their place.' It felt as if spectral hands closed over her own and steered her arms to raise. 'Mete out your own justice, just this once. It's only a dream, after all. Take back what is yours. But remove his mask, make sure his eyes know you.'_

 _Rune reached forwards and ripped the leather from Gaunt's face, feeling awash with grief for just one second as she finally knew the face of her captor. This was a dream, yes, but was this what he really looked like? He was a normal man. A normal man with a normal face, black eyes focused wearily on her own as if wondering if she would put him out of his misery._

 _Just a man in armor._

 _Rune gripped her axe in both hands and swung at his throat, feeling a surge of relief as the edge cleanly ended his life. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, feeling her lungs tense with the sensation of impending panic._

 _The same weight that raised her axe seemed to press against her shoulders, frozen digits of some stranger's now gentle hands. Her eyes were closed, but she could sense the figure with its frozen touch against her skin. She could clearly envision them leaning down to speak into her ear._

 _'This is justice, my dear. I've given you this redemption because I love you. That, of all things that may transpire, will remain true. When I come for you, remember that.'_

* * *

Kliff bit at his bottom lip as he stared up at the blackness of Rune's window, debating whether or not it would be worth it to climb up a slippery roof.

She had to be awake. After all, it was four in the morning. She was the biggest stickler for early to bed, early to rise that he had ever met. Of course, that was assuming things hadn't changed in a year.

But of course things had. Things were different. Everything, everyone. They were all different. A year in battle made an incredible difference. A year getting to know his best friends all the better, and a year fighting alongside strangers that he would jump in front of danger for... And here he was, anticipating that someone he hadn't seen in over 365 days was the same. Compared to Tobin, Gray, Alm…

Rune was basically a stranger now.

"Stop that. You're being an idiot. Just climb the house," he snapped, jumping in fear at the sound of his own voice teasing him. In the blanketed, silent winter, his voice sounded like a rock smashing through glass. It was all the encouragement he needed to carefully step up onto the frosted woodpile and pull himself onto the low hanging roof.

He hesitated to ask her to join the Deliverance, but Luthier had mentioned that the others were toying with the idea of marching on Rigel a little earlier than spring. While Kliff had the momentum to drag his friend into the war, he decided it best to act upon that notion before he allowed his mind time to consider why it might be a bad idea.

Besides, he had a lot of books to share, and giving them to her now would mean that she could start on them early. That seemed logical enough.

Yes, logical, he thought, tapping on the pane of the window lightly. Impatient and cold, he pressed his face to the glass to try and glimpse any sign of movement.

The window shot upwards, giving him less than a second to lean back lest he want his chin busted open by the white windowpane. He hadn't expected Rune to be asleep, but he truly hadn't anticipated that she would be wide awake nor dressed in her day clothes. Hazel eyes blinked at him from the darkness, unreadable and stormy. The only emotion they didn't seem to divulge was surprise.

"Why don't you just use the front door?"

"Your father." Kliff admitted, pulling his frozen fingers into the cuffs of his sweater. "He's seven feet tall and has a scary beard. If I knocked and he opened the door and started yelling at me, I would turn tail and run. You'd never see me again."

"Is that the impression you get from him?" Rune's brow knitted. "He's very mild-mannered."

Kliff rolled his eyes. "From your perspective, I guess. Can you let me in before I die?"

She robotically stepped aside, extending her hand towards the chair at her desk. "Of course, go sit. There's much to discuss, after all. I've been so busy thinking that I haven't slept at all." She watched impatiently as he tried to climb through what space was available, a feat much more difficult than in the past thanks to about a foot more of height and a handful less flexibility than he had not too long ago. Rune winced as he slammed the window shut behind him.

"I brought some books, by the way." Kliff dropped himself into her chair, finding that his eyes immediately darted towards the charcoal sketches scattered across the desk's marred top. "Hey, I've missed your stalker portraits."

"Ah, don't-…" Rune bustled over and began scrambling papers together, but not quickly enough. Just as fast as she could rush them into a stack, he was pulling out strays and observing them. "You have no right to be so nosy in my own home!"

"This one looks just like Mathilda with her new haircut. You did this recently?" He ignored her protest, half turning his chair away as she went to snatch the parchment from his hands. He held it up in the lamplight to take a closer look. "It's pretty good, but when have you seen her recently?"

"On Sir Mycen's land, she was-… I was coming home with pheasants and I… I really don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, I guess you don't. But this scrapped one is definitely Tobin. Not bad, though he looks a little more babyfaced than he actually is in this one. I can see why you threw it away."

"If I wanted a critique…" She started to hiss through her teeth, feeling color rise to her face.

"You took some creative liberty with this one of Forsyth. He isn't this good looking." Kliff wrinkled his nose.

"At least for that one I wasn't watching someone from afar. He's just as nosy as you and asked to be drawn."

"You mean like a model?" Kliff's eyebrows raised and he finally turned the chair back around, looking miffed. "I thought you didn't like sharing portraits, and now you're having people model? And why would you draw all my friends but never me?"

She opened her mouth to counter his words but couldn't fathom a response. "…None of this is important, you realize that, right?"

"Yeah, it really isn't." He gave a shrug, rolling his eyes around the room. Things were rearranged, different, but not in the way that he had feared. And here he was, worried that the person he once knew might be a stranger. Their lives hadn't changed though, only gone on longer. The only way to make up for the difference in experiences would be to share it.

"Can I tell you something?" Rune asked quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed. Her stormy gaze was studying his features intently. "It was what kept me up all night. I've made up my mind, but your answer is what decides it all the same."

Feeling his stomach flip-flop, he only nodded his head.

"I want to join the Deliverance." She said breathlessly. Rune accepted his silence as awaiting an explanation. "But if you didn't want me to go, I understand. And I will not. If… that's what you want." Her eyes turned down and away from his quickly. "The justice of the Deliverance belongs to you. And it belongs to Alm, and all of those who fight for Zofia. Now that you and my father have both come back, I've realized that I lack a real purpose. I exist only to take up a place in the world and worry about others who have far more important things to worry about than me."

He remained quiet, unsure of how to respond to that.

"And I do not want to go as your shadow, or as your friend. Nor do I ever want to use you as a crutch. I understand that your other comrades are much stronger and mean much more to you. It's precisely for that reason that I need your permission. I'm not fighting for Zofia, but for myself. But it's important to me that you understand that I won't allow myself to be in your way."

"Why do you think I left in the first place? Patriotism? I needed to find a reason to exist, too."

"Did you find one?"

"Not yet. But it's been one hell of a journey. And you're allowed to want that, you know. Eventually I'll find what I'm looking for, but until then I'm part of a change in the world. I wanted you to go with me in the first place, but I thought…"

"Is that what Tobin was going to say yesterday? And why you're here now?"

He scoffed. "Yeah. It's a big commitment, isn't it? Asking someone to risk their life in war because you want them to be with you?"

Rune was silent for a moment. "I heard one of the soldiers mention that you nearly died. And I realized that if you had, I would never have known. When I try to imagine what that would feel like… I can't really put it into words."

He was hit with a wave of guilt that seemed to invade from somewhere deep. "I guess I could be more careful, huh?" He felt vulnerable as she studied him, that same perpetual look of worry stuck to her face. It was revealing and embarrassing to be watched so closely. What was she looking for?

"I have a bit of a hard time seeing you as the same person," Rune stated. It was as if she had been reading his mind. "I suppose you don't look that much different. Maybe a bit more tan? But it's more than just that."

"My arms are ten times bigger, you know. And I have scars and scrapes everywhere." He showed her his palms. To his surprise she took his right hand in both of hers, turning them over in her own.

"Your poor hands look terrible!"

"It happens when you're fighting every day. I guess yours will too before long, right?"

"And eventually they'll be so marred that no one would give second thought to my face, would they?" Her eyes remained cast downwards, though a wry smile touched her lips. It lasted for a mere second before it turned back into a frown.

"You're pretty vain to think that everyone's staring at you for something that nobody notices, you know. Honestly, you're still not over that?" A stray curl fell across her scarred cheek and he absently brushed it back with his left hand, causing her to jerk her head up to face him as if she had been electrocuted. A lump caught in his throat as he realized how close his forehead had been to hers. He took his right hand back from both of hers and leaned back in the chair with a long, puffy sigh, feeling his face burn with embarrassment.

Hazel eyes studied him with their usual worried expression, but she broke the silence with a sarcastic laugh, one that was perhaps a touch too loud considering the multiple sleeping bodies in her home. "For a moment I thought you were going to kiss me. You must be lonely to plummet your standards so much."

"Kissing you? That thought alone is repulsive." He barked, silencing her immediately. Kliff half turned on the chair's axis, savoring her stunned silence. "…I'm kidding."

"Oh, are you? Well you'd best be. With the way you talk to people I might be the only woman in the world who would kiss you."

"You sound pretty sure about that, but you might want to get in line. I'm more popular with the women than you might think."

"My my, I can see that you take your popularity quite seriously these days," she chided, clearing her throat in annoyance. "It must be quite the life, walking into a new town and having strange women throw themselves all over you for being heroes. Is that how it goes?"

"Wellll, I wouldn't ask any questions that you really don't want the answer to, but it's wrong to turn down a well-deserved reward for a battle well fought."

She gave him a glare that mad his blood run cold. The muted sound of a creaking door caught his ear, but Rune seemed completely unphased. Kliff shrunk down in his chair under the weight of her stare, wishing he could disappear before she drilled holes through him with her oppressive aura.

"I'm disgusted. Were you not raised better than that? You have no shame." She uttered stonily.

"...R-Rune, it was a joke..."

"Oh, I see." She uttered a fake laugh and rose to her feet, yanking her door open a little too aggressively. "That's very funny. Well, it sounds like one of the soldiers is awake, so perhaps you could go downstairs and help him make coffee. Our kettle is very fickle."

GIngerly he rose and started to walk out the door, peering into the darkness. "You're sure it's okay for me to be here this early?"

She patted him on the back with enough force to make him stumble out into the hallway. "Of course it is, don't be silly!" He turned with his eyebrow raised to ask again, but the door slammed shut in his face before he could protest.

Kliff rolled his eyes, making a mental note that his idiot friend was still a complete prude as he ascended the stairs as quietly as possible. He fondled the wall to fight a source of light and blinked as the den lit up, striking him with how little it had changed. Kliff hardly ever spent any time in it before. Maria never left the house, and every time that Kliff was in it he was met with a scornful look.

He slid into the kitchen, already well lit and warmer than the den from the heat of the burning stove. He found himself staring at Forsyth's back, feeling a twinge of annoyance.

"Just what are you doing?" Kliff snapped, unable to keep from smiling as the other man jumped half out of his skin and whipped around. Crimson eyes met brown as they studied each other for a moment.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack..." Forsyth managed to half-whisper, though his volume left much to be desired. "What on Mila's green earth are you doing here? And how did you get in?"

"I climbed in through a window." Saying it aloud to someone besides Rune made it certainly sounded more dramatic than it was.

"Were you raised by animals? Where is your shame?!" Forsyth barked, an uncanny caricature of the very same scolding Kliff had just gotten from Rune, though for completely different reasons.

"This house is more morally oppressive than a temple..." Kliff muttered under his breath.

"What was that? You should speak clearly!" Forsyth's command was halfhearted; nearly all of his focus was on the stovetop kettle. "I suppose you're up because you've heard about today?"

"What, the fireworks tonight? That's nothing to be excited about."

"I... uh, no." Forsyth shook his head. "Is there a festival? Nobody ever tells me these things..."

"Forget it. What were you talking about?"

"It isn't official, but there will be a council meeting at Sir Mycen's home to determine which of us will be sent on a witch extermination at the cave system approximately 34 kilometers from the village. There have been multiple sightings and even a disappearance since we've arrived. It's in Sir Alm's best interest to protect his home, of course."

Kliff slouched down in a kitchen chair, rubbing his temples. "Seriously? How many witches? Only the main force of the Deliverance is here. We can't exactly walk into a den with our most valuable leaders as our only pawns!"

"It is best to deal with this as swiftly as possible. There isn't much time to gather more information, as crucial as it may sound." Forsyth cleared his throat. "Though fighting witches is not what I would consider a talent of mine."

"I wouldn't call it anyone's talent. It's always a nightmare, especially when they're in numbers..." Kliff rested his cheek on his palm, already dreading the war council. "I always feel so bad for them. They're not like normal reanimated corpses. It makes me wonder if they can still feel and think underneath that curse."

"They can."

Oskar's deep voice grabbed the ears of both soldiers. Rune's father stood in the doorway, garbed down in a red leisure robe though his hair was combed neatly as if he were going out.

"Witches turn slowly." His hazel eyes locked onto Kliff's features, giving an accusing glower. However, if Oskar had something to say about Kliff's presence, it seemed he didn't feel it very imortant. "It begins as an illness, one that makes them slightly disoriented and fatigued. Once their mind and body are exhausted, they stop sleeping. This insomnia is what makes them truly vulnerable to Duma's power. The longer that they resist it, the more they suffer. That is why you'll see old witches in solid form, but some younger ones with the flesh dripping right off their bones. A weaker mind makes a more powerful host because the process is sped up."

"...Where did you learn this? In all my studies I've never found anything about the process of witches turning."

Oskar only kept talking, moving past Forsyth to pull the kettle from the heat before it began to shriek. "Strong will and conviction make for foul witches. Their madness is organic, brought on by the rotting of the mind and the soul. In the end, they are less powerful than the weak-willed. The suffering of the family is much greater for a strong-willed witch as well. One of the first notions for a witch is to run away from their friends and family."

"Can they be turned back?" Kliff blinked up at Oskar, absorbing his words.

"Of course not." He let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. "Oh, but they will tell you they can. They will beg to be saved, which is the truest form of torture. It makes one wonder: are they words from the suffering soul, or a plight from the witch's darkness?"

"You mean to say that we could be killing suffering people who are still capable of behaving rationally?" Forsyth asked quietly, his expression stormy.

"There is nothing rational about Duma's madness." Oskar found his favorite cup and set a small metal mesh over the top, hunting down coffee grounds as the two soldiers watched him with thoughtful gazes.

"Do you have any books about the Duma Faithful?" Kliff asked after a solid minute of silence. "That kind of stuff isn't even allowed in the village, but you had to learn it somewhere, right? Forbidden or not, it could really save a lot of innocent lives if you share what you know."

"As you said, it is forbidden. I haven't been here very long and I'd rather not disrupt the peace by owning something that would cause trouble for my family."

"Right, sorry..."

"But I have not been here long, as I've said. Therefore should my daughter have stored anything on such a dark matter into the library, I would have no way of knowing." Oskar gave Kliff a wan smile, one that lingered for only a second before it vanished into his raised coffee cup. "But isn't that enough gloomy talk so early in the morning?" With that he saw himself out of the kitchen, carefully picking his way up the stairs to keep from spilling his drink.

"I believe Delthea and Luthier should both sit this mission out." Forsyth stated solemnly, half expecting Kliff to argue with him. "It was not long ago that-..."

Kliff interrupted him. "I get it. You don't have to explain it to me. We would be leaving out two of our most reliable methods of dealing with dark magic, but the risk isn't worth letting them into the fight. They're both especially susceptible."

"It's like an illness as Oskar said, isn't it? If only there was a pill to cure it or grant an immunity. Delthea has nearly lost her soul once already, and now she's too valuable to throw into battle."

The blond gave a scoff. "If it were up to Clive, we would have abandoned her. He didn't want to help Lutier save her, remember? Do you think Delthea would be such a fan if she knew that he dismissed her life because she's a commoner?"

"That's enough..." Forsyth grumbled, well aware that Kliff was trying to prod him into defending Clive. "What's passed has passed. Nobody would question their value."

"Right. Value." Kliff plucked a dried leaf off of one of the winterblooms seated in the center of the table. As nonchalantly as possible, he asked: "Speaking of value, what do you think Clive would set Rune's pay grade at if she were to join the Deliverance?" His eyes flicked up to guage the other soldier's reaction.

"That's absurd... Surely you aren't just asking your friends to throw their lives into battle, are you? She's exhibited no battle prowess."

"Huh?! Now you're the one being absurd! Are you kidding? How would you know anything about her battle prowess when you haven't seen her fight?" The boy knew better than to be personally offended, but it seemed absolutely ridiculous that someone always so gung-ho on positivity and inner strength would just say that _his_ friend had no natural talent.

Just... what?

"Ultimately it is the decision of Lukas and I if a new recruit is fit for battle. And my vote is already cast." Forsyth about-faced back towards the stove, leaving Kliff to stare at his back and grown angrier and angrier at that stupid response with every passing second.

"What the hell? I thought you liked her." A porcelain cup hit the counter a little too hard, cracking the bottom of it as Forsyth fumbled. "Will you STOP breaking things!?"

"Why can't you drop the matter? I'm sure there are more able bodies in Ram Village. I highly doubt Lady Rune would willingly leave her father here with-..."

Kliff interrupted swiftly. "It was her idea in the first place! What is your problem? You can't leech off of her family and not even give her a chance. If you're going to be an asshole now, then what have you been sucking up for?"

"Watch your mouth! And besides, shouting at me is not going to help your case."

"Yeah, well, we'll see what Alm has to say at that meeting, won't we?"

"I suppose we shall."


	19. A Bell Began to Toll

**One Star to the Next**

 **Chapter 19**

 **A Bell Began to Toll**

* * *

"Look, I know I went out of my way to make plans for today, but I didn't know that we would be having some stupid meeting. I don't know how long it'll take but maybe I can talk to Alm about getting you signed up, I guess."

"That's fine. And really, don't beat yourself up over it. I understand that meetings are more important."

Kliff blew a tuft of hair out of his eyes before giving her a bratty half-smile. "Yeah, sure. It's just the nobles twiddling their thumbs and looking anxiously at Alm and the rest of us for hours on end. But next time you see me, it'll be with good news. I promise."

"It's fine. You'd best be going." She extended her arm towards the cold outdoors and impatiently waited for him to go. As soon as he was gone, she slammed it behind Kliff and leaned against it, completely unsure what to do with herself. The entire house was completely empty. Her father and Maria had both set out earlier to shop and spend time together ( she wondered how well that would go, but didn't think to question it. Maria hadn't left her room for more than a few minutes at a time in weeks). Forsyth and Python were both already at the very same meeting that Kliff had just gone off to.

She could think of a hundred things to do, but for some reason cleaning up the front den took priority. Rune tied her long curls up in a loose topknot and shed her coat, placing her hands on her hips as she looked around for a place to start. The wrappers sticking out of one of the couches seemed like a nice Point A. Python had a habit of shoving trash where it didn't belong when he didn't feel like getting up. Point B became disinfecting all of the light switches in the house.

And so on and so forth, until an hour later she found herself rearranging the living room to better accommodate the heat from the fireplace or the light from the largest eastern window. Though she tried to ignore it, the mahogany bookshelf next to the window was sitting askew on the small rug beneath it. The shelf itself was heavy but had been mostly empty until Forsyth had taken up temporary residence and emptied the contents of one knapsack onto it. With that added weight it would be impossible to merely slide, so she dropped to the floor and started to pull the books off the shelves.

One in particular was much smaller than the rest, its pages dog-eared. She knew immediately that it was a journal and tried to put it down in the stack of other books, but her curious fingers had no sooner placed it down before they picked it right back up again, opening the cover to scan the date at the top.

' _I have no right to be so nosy... but why keep something out in plain sight if it isn't meant to be read?'_ She thought, eyes flicking towards the front door for a half second. _'Why am I trying to rationalize being a bad person? If someone read my journal, I'd attack them!'_

Of course, her journal was well hidden in a locked compartment of the book room's desk drawer and not sitting in plain sight.

"I'm sorry!" She whimpered aloud in defeat, sitting cross legged on the floor of her living room as she turned to the first page and prepared to engross herself in another's personal life.

 _"13th/Pegastym/389VC. Father said that every scholar should keep a journal of what he learns, so he made this one. I think Python should make one full of fake stuff that he's learned and leave it on the teacher's desk. Unless he tricks them I don't think he's going to pass at all."_

She flipped the the last page to see when it was last updated and was quite shocked to see that it was still current, though the handwriting had become neat slanted cursive instead of messy scrawlings and each entry looked to be less than a paragraph long.

 _"21st/Wyrmstym/401VC. Ram Village reminds me of my home, though it's smaller. I wonder if Father and Mother are still angry. I can't imagine so. I can imagine, however, that famine has reached our village. The thought troubles me."_

 _"22nd/Wyrmstym/401VC. Lukas has received word that his brother was killed in battle. I don't believe he feels anything, but my heart goes out to my old friend in place of the one he should have."_

 _"23rd/Wyrmstym/401VC. Sir Oskar told me about his first wife and firstborn today. Every tale I hear of Duma's influence worries me evermore. He requested that I keep Deliverance matters out of earshot of Lady Rune. If our end goal is truly Duma, then that seems perfectly reasonable."_

A loud knock on the front door caused Rune to slam the journal shut, tossing it back into the pile of books. She quickly rose to her feet and dusted herself off. As she walked towards the door, a white rectangle slid through the letter slot and fell to the wood floor. Two slanted shadows interrupted the sunlight from the bottom of the door; someone was still standing there.

Slightly shaken from the sudden intrusion, she bent to pick the letter up. Her fingertips brushed the envelope just as her eyes registered that the letters slashed across the front in blocky script said **SISTER.**

 _'What the hell?'_ Quickly she tore open the end and shook the contents out into her palm: just a small square of parchment folded in half. Dread began to set into her joints, creeping down her spine and leaving her feeling cold and isolated.

 _Adella, Adella, with wings upon her back,_

 _choked upon her own tongue until her face turned black._

 _With a rope around her neck, she still did hang and sway._

 _And what of the accursed one, the one who got away?_

 _In her breast is darkest day, a spell to rot the earth._

 _Tell me Father dearest, just what is your life worth?_

Rune dropped the paper as if it burned her, stepping back as it fell to her feet. It took her whirring mind a moment to recall that _someone_ had dropped the letter in.

Adrenaline pumping in her veins, she moved back into the den and tore open Maria's cabinet of fine decorative china plates, pushing them violently aside as her fingers felt for the dagger that she always kept there. In a panic, she thought it was gone, but finally her hands touched cold metal and she pulled the weapon close, ignoring the crash and tinkling of shattering glass as it hit the ground from her rough search.

Wasting no time, Rune pulled the door open with her dagger raised above her head, only to find an empty doorstep on the other side. Hazel eyes darted left and right, just barely managing to catch a glimpse of black as something moved into the trees on the left side of the trail that lead to her door.

Rune bolted after it, rage clutching at her lungs as her legs whipped through the thick snow. Her arms pumped as she closed the distance, hunting for the one who had intruded to leave that gristly message.

 _'Adella, Adella...'_

She tried to erase the disgusting poem from her mind, but it seemed to persistently try to rear its head, taunting her.

 _'choked on her own tongue…'_

Finally Rune caught sight of a black cloaked figure running through a clearing, no longer safe to simply rush about and hide behind trees. The figure lunged forwards suddenly, rolling as they landed. When Rune realized they had jumped over a frozen stream that had been well hidden in the snow, it was far too late for her to stop. Her right leg crashed through the ice, numbing her skin instantly. The jagged ice shredded her right thigh as it were made of tempered steel.

"Shit!" Swearing (against her very nature, but the situation seemed to call for it), she clamored back to her feet and made two more lunging strides forwards before succumbing to the numbness. Rune fell to her hands and knees and fought to catch her breath, watching with building concern as the dirty snow around her right knee began to stain itself pink and then maroon with her blood.

 _'You can't let this keep happening. You've got to put an end to this constant harassment!'_ she lectured herself. Seeing the mental image of that letter fluttering through the door was enough to get her to her feet again, sprinting at full force despite her wet clothes and the pain that was replacing the nothingness her leg was experiencing.

 _'With a rope around her neck…'_

She was convinced that she had lost the figure, right up until the moment she heard branches snap and saw something dash into a cluster of trees. The terrain had become more rocky and less flat. Rune followed its course, rounding the same bend only to come to a complete halt.

Her culprit had ceased running and was now standing with its back to a cave entrance. No, not quite a cave. It dipped into the snow with an opening wide enough for a person to walk through, almost like a human burrow.

And now, face to face with it, she could see that the thing she had given chase to was unquestionably an undead witch. The woman stood with one hand clasped around her own outstretched right wrist, her palm facing Rune in a warning gesture. The upper half of her face seemed to be that of a young girl. The lower seemed to be missing entirely; only an upper set of teeth remained. The entire lower jaw was missing, leaving the face locked into an eternal scream.

Rune took a half step back as the girl's tongue wriggled from the open throat, moving like a bloated worm from behind what teeth did remain. It took Rune a moment to realize that the thing was trying to speak to her.

"What do you want from me?" Rune uttered weakly, taken aback by the monstrosity of the witch's features. Her eyes wanted to pull away from the hanging skin and muscle of the cheeks that were attached to nothing, but she could not. _"Are you the one who came into my room?!"_

The woman shook her head left and right, outstretching her hand again as a warning gesture. Rune took a defensive stance, half expecting a spell to erupt from the witch's fingers, but none came.

"...lill... ee..."

"What?"

"-Lill... kee... nee..." Both hands clutched at the woman's throat for a moment. She pointed at Rune and then gestured vigorously at herself, dropping to her knees in the snow with her head back. A wretched scream came from her throat, one that sounded like a wracking sob. The creature sucked in air as if breathing hurt her, and then began to tear at her cloak in agony.

"Kill you? Is that what you're saying?"

"Nnnnnnnnn!" The witch clamored to her feet and charged towards Rune, causing the girl to immediately raise her dagger over her head to bring it down into the witch's exposed clavicle just as the girl's body collided with hers with the force of a rockslide. The witch's raised right knee met with Rune's abdomen, knocking the air out of her lungs. Rune squeezed her eyes shut as metal clinked against bone. With her weapon buried to the hilt in the other woman's chest, she fought to keep from falling backwards and rolled aside as the dead figure hit the snow. The heat from her fevered body began turn snow into steam, filling the air with hissing.

Rune could only watch in horror, making her the perfect immobile target of a well aimed dark spell, one which hit the back of her shoulder like a heavy arrow. Despite her desire to turn and face her attacker, she felt every ounce of energy drained from her, leaving her limbs trembling. Even raising her hand to comfort the throbbing wound proved to be too difficult.

"That's alright, she was having a hard time turning. I suppose that little one gets the satisfaction of dying human. Against my words, at that." A figure waltzed around form her right side, this one dressed in extravagant silk black robes lined with gold. It was undoubtedly another witch, but this one didn't seem to be a victim of rot. Instead, her skin was as white as winter, stained with blue veins that ran across her features like a twisting forest root system. At a glance, she looked nearly human.

 _'I can't deal with another one. I really can't,'_ Rune thought weakly, feeling defeat sink into her bones.

"Chasing us down and then stabbing us through the heart? That is quite an over the top reaction for receiving a friendly letter, is it not?" The interloper teased, another bolt of dark energy primped at her fingertips. "Though I do wonder why Master chooses to tease you when you are so very, very fragile. Killing you would be so quick, so delightfully satisfying..."

With a second wind that took excruciating effort, Rune snatched her dagger free from the flesh of the dead witch and charged towards the one who had joined the battle, hoping to catch her off guard as she taunted. Her weapon swiped through the air where the pale witch had just been; it was as if she had vanished in an instant.

Her robed form popped back into existence behind Rune and slashed at her with a strange sharpened short spear, one most likely used as a catalyst for longer charging spells. Rune yanked her elbow back with all of her might, connecting with the witch's face. The spear's head was knocked off of its course and connected with a chunk of Rune's hair as opposed to the back of her neck where it was initially planned to strike.

Before the witch could recover, Rune twisted around and lunged, bringing her to the ground full force. A mortal struggle commenced between the two of them, a violent, animalistic brawl of swings and kicks and weight crashing against weight as the pale witch fought to keep upright and Rune fought to completely pin her to the ground, her dagger cast aside. The witch's wood-handled spear hit home again and again, though the stabs were nothing more than enough to puncture Rune's skin; she had no way to garner enough force to strike a deadly blow from the ground with such a long weapon.

"Gods damn you!" The witch shrieked, writhing as Rune pinned her arms to the snow with her own. Her right knee was firmly planted in the woman's soft stomach, grinding harder and harder into her vulnerable organs as she fought for control. She mustered a fireball from one of her restrained hands, one that caught Rune off guard enough to grant her opponent momentum to overthrow Rune and scramble away, hoping to regain her footing in the battle.

 _'Her physical strength is lacking and she needs to focus to hit me with spell like that arrow. I can win this. I can kill her,'_ Rune's consciousness gave her the necessary boost in confidence to charge at the woman despite the fact that she had another dark arrow spell brewing at her fingertips. The witch lost concentration and threw herself towards Rune's discarded dagger, patting at the snow furiously as she clamored to grip the handle in both pale hands. She had it prone and ready to strike for no more than one second before she was smothered in blinding light, the likes of which caused Rune to slam her own eyes shut and cover them with her forearm.

The witch screamed, her high pitched voice dropping and becoming deeper millisecond by millisecond until she finally collapsed in on herself, hitting the snow and eliciting a hissing sound as she did so.

"Don't move, Rune!" A soft feminine voiced squeaked just as Rune's elbows buckled. She lay flat on her back and tried to catch her breath, the pain of her countless cuts and wounds settling into her bones. Faye's round face appeared over her and the blonde quickly started sizing up the damage, her brow knitted in worry. "...You've lost a lot of blood. What on earth are you doing out here?!"

"Aw, shit." She heard Python sigh. Rune started to sit upright and felt hands push at her back, trying to help her.

"What are you doing? You can't move her right now! Something may be broken!"

"We've got to get this dumbass out of the cold, she's turning blue. ...Anything broken, kid?"

"No, I-I don't think..." Rune shook her head. The cold permeated all of her senses. She wanted nothing more than to lay back down and fall asleep, but Faye snapping her fingers in front of her nose prevented that.

"You're not gonna like this, but I'm gonna help you up and it'll probably hurt." Rune prepared for the worst and clenched her jaw as she climbed to her feet with Python's help, finding that her right leg wasn't too happy about having pressure put on it. She felt like she was trembling from her very soul outwards.

"That one witch dissolved under Seraphim, but the other one... Rune, did you kill her?"

Rune only grunted in response to Faye's question, trying as hard as she could to keep from crying in pain.

"Her body is still here. I don't think she was a witch yet."

"Yeah, that's really not helping, Faye. Which one of us is gonna carry her?"

Faye gave Rune a long look that made her feel quite self-conscious. "You're a man and you're asking a girl my size if I can carry her?"

"Oh, don't play dumb! You've dragged bears back to camp, you really think she weighs more than a bear?"

Rune shook her head, feeling as if talking took tremendous effort. "I don't need to be carried, I-..."

"You're not walking." They stopped bickering long enough to cut off Rune's protest.

"We can draw straws?" Python offered. Faye balled her hands into fists at her sides and looked like she were about to throw a tantrum.

"Can you stop being difficult and just man up already?!"

"That's so sexist." He tsked, but knelt with his back to Rune all the same. "Come on, girlie. We've got a long ass hike ahead of us." Faye rushed to his right side as he hoisted Rune up onto his back whilst making completely unnecessary groans of effort as he stood back upright. "This would be so much easier for Forsyth. He lifts, like, five hundred pounds all the time."

Rune thought about pointing out the fact that she was in the perfect position to strangle him to death, but decided to be the bigger person and keep her mouth shut. Arguing would be too exhausting.

"This gash on your leg isn't going to close up, but you should be feeling a little better now. Right? Are you able to focus?"

Much to her surprise, it seemed Faye was correct. She was still in excruciating pain, but her mind seemed clear and the superficial cuts and bruises seemed to have closed up, leaving pale marks in their place.

"That was incredible. You don't have a staff or a spell book." Rune marveled at her own arm. Faye sheepishly cast her eyes downwards, color rising to her cheeks.

"Without a catalyst, I'm still able to close up wounds with my own energy. As for casting Seraphim or Nosferatu, I've written down the incantation and keep the pages on my belt at all times. Casting those without help would probably just suck up all of my life force."

"...Thank you."

"No need to thank me, it's my job. Oh, and those white marks will match your skin in a few hours. Don't worry, they won't scar over."

Rune was overcome with dizziness for a moment, the bitter cold feeling surprisingly warm. Holding her head up seemed like such an impossible task that she allowed herself to slide her eyes shut for just a moment.

"What were you doing out here? Did you hear about the subjugation mission and decide to help out?" Silence hung in the air as Rune struggled to process a thought.

"...You're really incredible, Faye..." She commented, though her words were slurred. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the other girl's concerned stare.

* * *

"Why have you forgiven him?"

"What?" Rune heard a voice, though her eyes were too heavy to open. She had tensed for for pain but felt nothing. Purple and red seemed to swirl on the back of her eyelids, and unpleasant darkness that made her anxious.

"Don't lift your head, just hear my voice."

 _'Magnus?'_ There was no mistaking her only brother, though she hadn't heard it in nearly a decade. Alarms seemed to ignite in her mind, but there was no malice in his voice. It was the same one that she had heard in her room, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was stern and haughty and deep and harsh, but it...

It was his. Not borrowed, but his own, with his heart in his words.

Blinding white light erased the uncomfortable reddish purple nightmare, causing her to raise her arms to shield her eyes from a moment. When Rune lowered them, she found herself seated on a piano bench, the light filtering in from a stained glass window on the other side of the grand instrument. She accidentally touched the keys and yelped at the sound of the chiming distress. For some reason, she hadn't expected the piano to actually make sound.

"Why don't you play Mother's song?" The ethereal voice was just behind her, close enough that she could feel every syllable resonate in the air around her.

"I'm not sure that I remember it."

"Of course you do, you hum it all the time. You taught it to that boy, didn't you? That was on a flute, but the melody remains the same."

Unsteady hands tentatively touched semi-familiar keys, testing the waters before gingerly plinking out a familiar tune. She repeated it, finding her stride.

"You're always so heavy handed at everything you do. It's truly unladylike. Would you like me to braid your hair?"

Her hands stopped as her hair was lifted from the nape of her neck in a loose ponytail. Rune hadn't actually expected nor believed that someone was with her, but it seemed she was wrong. She started to turn to look behind her but then hesitated, afraid of what she might see. Instead she continued to play her mother's song wordlessly, feeling her long, long locks neatly cross over and under one another.

"Father could have killed my corpse and given me a respectable ending to my tale. Now it runs amok, killing in the name of a god that I never believed in. Imagine my visage attached to a deity. Me, one who puts no faith nor stock in calling on great faeries in the sky to do my bidding." The voice spoke these words as calm as could be, even though they should have been said with hatred or ill will.

Or not at all, she tried to remind herself. He was dead, gone. Dead, gone. Dead...

 _'With a rope around her neck...'_

Rune had always loved to have her hair played with; it sent tingles of calm down her spine. The touch alone felt so incredibly foreign to her that it was as if she had regressed to a much easier time, long before her family had become broken. She closed her eyes and uttered the only response that she knew of. "Father couldn't bring himself to harm you, Brother."

"Lies. He first wounded me when he decided that our lives were disposable. I mourned Mother just as you did, but he is the one who selfishly decided that he was wounded moreso than the children borne from her womb. How could giving me peace have hurt me more than his disgusting choice to walk away and pretend that I never existed? I suffered in that place."

Rune stopped playing the piano, lowering her face towards the ebony and ivory notes as the sunlight touched her closed eyelids. "So now you intend to kill him? Or are you imploring that I do not forgive him?"

The gentle tugging at her hair ceased. "Of course not. Revenge is messy and uncouth. I still love Father, just as I still love Mother and you, as well. My corpse is not something that I have control of, however the thing within it seems to feel my memories and feed off of them. I want you to kill me, or it. Finish what our unforgivable, pathetically meek father never could."

"I... Where is it?" She asked, her voice wavering. Cold hands pressed at the top of her head as Magnus shushed her, patting her scalp.

"Oh, no no. As you are now, you will surely be destroyed. Duma's power is growing, loathe as I am to admit it. Soon, those turned will begin to pull back towards the source of the darkness and there they will fester and grow."

"I don't understand. What do you want me to do?" She started to turn around to face him, but once again felt the distinct realization that she should not do that very thing. At a loss, overwhelmed, she lowered her chin and silently began to cry, tears rolling over her lashes and dropping onto the keys without a sound. "I'm afraid that this isn't real. You can't truly be talking to me."

"If you want to listen, then you should listen. Regardless of your belief, you have the choice to do that, don't you?"

"Yes?" She responded weakly.

"Very well. Grow strong in whatever way you can and surely you will meet him, it, myself, on the field of battle. There is a war, Rundeltia. You do understand that the land is at stake? Someone of your conviction can surely feel the cogs in motion."

"How long have you been with me? You've remained silent all this time? Why did you never speak to me before if you were able to?" She started to become antsy, tears wavering in her voice. His arms slid around her shoulders in cold reassurance, chin pressed against the top of her head.

"I am your family. Where else would I be if not with you? The only reason that you are able to speak with me now is because you've come so very close to This Side."

"This Side..." her skin erupted into gooseflesh as she absorbed those words. "You mean I nearly died?"

"If you were to die, your indomitable will would be trapped here in the In-Between just as mine is, longing for release. It is important that you settle what troubles your soul. This lack of existence is agony beyond what words could truly define. It's frightening here, sounds and spirits that pass through with ill intent and shattered hearts."

"I don't know if I can do what you ask of me. Why would you assume that I have the potential to become strong enough to-?"

"My sister, it is about time that you shed that false meekness that you've come to parade around on your face. Who is this mild woman that you present the world with?"

"I don't understand what you mean. I am… I am myself, aren't I?"

"Gods, the lies that you've convinced yourself of!" Magnus' voice magnified, echoing in the otherwise silent chamber. "Who trained you to no longer trust yourself?"

A bell began to toll, its deep rumble echoing in the white room. Rune's pulse began to quicken against her skin as if her veins had come to life and decided to protest against the prison of her body.

"I suppose that means it's time that I took my leave. Congratulations, your conviction grants you the strength to rise again."

A pained gasp escaped Rune's throat as she felt Magnus step backwards and away from her. She finally felt brave enough to turn around, tipping the piano bench out from under her as she shot to her feet and whipped around with arms outstretched. "Brother, wait!"

* * *

 _A/N: Hey there, just letting you know I'll edit small mistakes once I've had some sleep and am no longer sick. Thanks for all the reviews and support!_


	20. Blackened Bones

**One Star to the Next**

 **Chapter 20**

 **Blackened Bones**

* * *

The vast white faded into cool tans and browns, sharp edges blurring into familiar human shapes as Rune was pulled back into consciousness. Her eyes blinked rapidly, catching the swimming faces and trying to decipher them as her lids grew heavy and threatened to close again. It took a few moments for her to realize that her ears were ringing so loudly that she couldn't hear her own father speaking to her.

"-ear me?"

Finally the ringing stopped, and with great effort she sat upright and realized that she was in her own room, in her own bed. She was also in immense pain.

"Rundeltia! I said, can you hear me?"

She could only blink in confusion as her father gripped her shoulders, his normally wan face torn with worry. Much to Rune's shock, Maria intervened and pulled Oskar's hands off of her, quietly urging him to calm down.

"Give her just a moment, she's been unconscious this whole time."

"I… I can hear you. How did I get home…?"

"Don't try to speak," Oskar warned, but Maria scoffed loudly and shook her head.

"First you demand that she speak and now you force her not to? Honestly, you're a mess in situations like this."

He gave his wife an incredulous look, his normally quiet canter loud and frantic. "When your only surviving child is endangered, one can be expected to-…"

"So now you know the feeling, don't you?" Maria interrupted, her tone like ice. Oskar did fall truly silent this time, unable to find a proper rejoinder.

"I asked how I got home. What time is it? How long have I been unconscious?"

"Python and the village girl dropped you off here nearly six hours ago. She said you were stable and left, but we've been waiting for you to wake for nearly an hour. She left home to fetch more supplies and said she would return." Maria retorted, malice in her tone. Towards Rune, towards Faye, or towards Python? Her step-child couldn't really differentiate whom the distaste was for, but it was certainly delivered. "What made you do such a stupid thing?"

Rune opened her mouth and closed it again, not sure how to answer. A sharp spike of pain lit her insides, quashing her replu as she held her ribs and waited for it to subside.

"It was that gods-be-damned village boy's fault!" Oskar snapped, startling both women with his outburst. "It's been his intention to have you straggled along with the Deliverance, is it not?"

"Who, Kliff?" Rune couldn't quite wrap her head around which village boy her father had any business being angry at, but she certainly didn't recall Kliff begging her to join nor making it public knowledge.

"Of course. Why else was he here at the break of the very morn, discussing such politics openly at my own table? He'll live to regret dragging you into such a suicide mission. What was there to gain from this?!" Oskar was in an uproar, his cheeks flushed with color. He only paused his grumbling to cough into a closed fist, turning his head away from his wife and child.

"Father, you're talking complete nonsense. What mission are you talking about?"

Before he could answer, the saving grace of a dainty knock rang out, halting the conversation. Faye was standing in the doorframe. She looked quite out of place in their house. She gave an apologetic half bow and then forced a weak laugh, holding up a basket.

"Excuse me, but I brought more bandages and salves for Rune. Do you think I could have some time alone with her? She's almost patched up and time is of the essence."

"Yes, of course." Oskar beckoned her in and ushered Maria out, the latter of which seemed more than happy to leave the room. For a long moment he stood there, standing tall over Faye as if he intended to stay there the whole time.

"Sir, she may need to undress, sooo…" Faye trailed off. Oskar seemed to take the hint and gave a quick nod in return, leaving and slamming the door closed behind him. There was a long pause before Faye gave Rune a sheepish half-smile. "You don't really have to undress, I just thought you might want a break. They've been hovering and arguing since Python and I dropped you off."

"I can't thank you enough. You both truly saved my life. I don't know what I was thinking…" Rune shook her head.

Faye sat down in the chair that Oskar had been occupying. "No, you know exactly what you were doing. You overheard the witch subjugation mission from Forsyth, didn't you? So you acted to protect the village, even though you aren't from here. That's… really admirable, you know."

Rune blinked, and then blinked again. What exactly was she hearing?!

"…Faye, that's not… No, I didn't…"

But what was she supposed to say? That she was just chasing the evil illusion of her dead brother and ended up in a hopeless fight because she completely lost control of herself? Unfortunately, that was the truth of the matter.

"Hey, there is no need to be modest. You did everyone a huge favor even if we did have to save you in the end. You killed one."

 _'Yes, I killed someone who begged for death…'_ Rune thought but did not say. She only watched in pained silence as Faye pulled back Rune's blanket and rolled up her pants' leg, revealing a horribly long gash along her thigh. "Oh, gods, I didn't even feel that…"

"If you're going to be sick, please let me know ahead of time. I'm about to stitch it up before the spell wears off." Faye warned. Rune shook her head, though her face was two shades paler. The blonde let out a quiet chuckle, one that was almost ominous. "You're afraid of blood, aren't you?"

"N-no. I'm a woman, I don't believe we are allowed the luxury of that fear." She watched as Faye fumbled a needle and thread out of her basket, feeling her heart beat faster. The blonde noticed that her patient had gone pale and patted her shoulder awkwardly.

"It won't hurt, I promise. You may be sore now, but you're currently numb to any new cuts and scrapes." Faye seemed to sense her apprehension. When Rune didn't respond, she pulled a hand-bound spell book out of her bag and sat it on the bed. "If you don't believe me, you can read about the healing magic while I stitch you up."

Shakily, Rune took the book into her lap and opened the cover, a weak laugh escaping her. "You're just trying to distract me."

Faye said nothing in return. She gently wiped at Rune's leg with a sterile cloth, noting that the other woman didn't even acknowledge it. The cut was rough and deep, about five inches long, if Faye had to guess off the top of her head. It was very shallow closer to Rune's knee, likely the point where the laceration began. It grew deeper as it climbed up her thigh, causing Faye to internalize an exasperated sigh. If it had just been on her calf, further away from her femoral artery, Silque's spells could have it completely repaired in less than four hours.

"…When I was really young, I got sick and needed a serum injection. I remember sitting on my mother's lap as she told me to find a butterfly in a picture of flowers. And just like that, the doctor pricked me with that needle and I burst into tears. …I was so, so angry at her for that…" Rune was rambling on and on nervously.

"Thinking about other things really helps some people cope, you know. When battles don't go well, I know that I can always just rely on Alm to calm me down. Thinking about him reminds me of the easier days."

Rune saw Faye closing in on her flesh with the needle and laid back, draping her arms over her forehead. "H-how long will that take?"

"Not long. I can also cut your hair, if you'd like. I cut my own."

Rune thought that was quite an odd request. "No thank you. I like my hair long, I haven't cut it in years."

"Oh, uh, so you didn't notice… hm…" Faye mumbled under her breath, leaning in closer to the wound as if she were completely focused. Rune felt a sense of dread creep up her spine. Sh pulled her hair over her shoulder, feeling the entire right side run through her fingertips in a clean, straight cut. The other side felt just as long as it had before, but the right was completely shorn all the way to her shoulder.

"Oh, gods…" Weakly she ran her fingers through again, as if to confirm that it was indeed almost all gone. "Oh no, no! What happened?!"

"Don't cry, Rune! A-and don't wiggle around!" Faye could scarcely believe that this of all things would be what sent Rune into a panic. "You have to be still, I still have to finish these stitches! It's just hair!"

Rune covered her face with her hands and fell silent. A quaint calm finally seemed to come over the room, one that allowed Faye to finish her work and pack up her basket of supplies without being interrupted.

"Don't tug at the stitching, and wait a few hours before you try to walk. Understand? This magic is strong but clearly you aren't going to listen and-…" Faye stopped short, reconsidering her words. "W-what I mean is, be gentle and you can be back to your normal self by tomorrow. If you irritate your muscles, they might heal a bit differently and leave you with a limp."

Rune only nodded, staring at the white bandages pulled tight around her thigh. "Thank you for taking care of me, Faye."

The blonde's pale features flushed with color at the gratitude. "Oh, it's… it's my job, Rune. You don't have to thank me."

* * *

 _"You've come with a lamb?"_

 _"I have."_

 _Oskar walked past dozens of sets of eyes, halting his steps in front of a giant stone chalice. Incense drifted up from its bowl, brought forth by the burning of tangled leaves that smelled sickly sweet. He could feel the presence of the cantors and the arcanists, decrepit and foul men who reeked of rot and had long since lost the ability to speak. They watched him like pack animals, hunting his movements for any sign of a threat._

 _One finally spoke, perhaps the only one among them to still have some wits about him. "We did attempt to collect, but the prize was not so easily wrested from your estate."_

 _"I understand. Please…" He knelt, placing the heavy burden wrapped tightly in shawls on the ground before him. "I beg forgiveness for the actions of my son, but I can assure you… my daughter…" He pulled the shawl away from her face Her cheeks were muddy and her eyes were closed tight, victim to a spell that numbed the nervous system. He had never expected to have to use it to disarm his eight year old daughter, but his options had run out. Offering Magnus had only alerted the boy to his own impending demise. He was smart, and he was quick. A faster, more reliable method had to be taken. "She will not resist. She cannot, in fact."_

 _A figure stepped forwards, approaching Oskar with a wicked grin stretched across his bluish face. The Faithful one circled the other man, sizing up his presence, his clothing, the way he trembled. "You would offer this vessel? What does a child have to offer our calling?"_

 _"She is of the same blood as my wife. My son, Magnus, he is from another woman."_

 _The Faithful's face contorted into a grimace of anger. "What good will a toddling child do for Duma? This body will not survive the Change! It wouldn't offer an ounce of power!"_

 _Oskar battled over his words, feeling his throat tighten painfully as his heart roared in his chest. He clenched his fists until his nails bit half-moons into his palms. Struggling to breathe, he nearly had to pant the words that it was so incredibly difficult to utter._

 _"If she cannot be turned to your cause, sacrifice her." Cold sweat seemed to eke from his every pore. He covered Rune's small face again and rose to his feet, turning to the figure who watched him with glee etched into his cloudy eyes. "Sacrifice her and bring back my wife. I know Duma grants you such magic. You are an arcanist, after all."_

 _"Your only full-blood child? And what of your legacy, o noble lord?"_

 _Oskar's voice had hardened, cutting like a knife. "My wife and I shall forge a new legacy, after you return her soul to its rightful place."_

 _The Faithful seemed taken aback, though only for a moment. "That darkness and turmoil that your heart must feel… yes, that will indeed feed Lord Duma a meal quite unlike any other. Your sacrifice shall nourish his feeble form. You are not unlike us."_

 _"Many a man these days are forced into decisions such as these. I do what must be done."_

 _The painful silence between the two men was sliced in twain as the silent hoarde of Faithful near the entrance of the shrine began to shuffle and tumble over one another, shrieking as they clamored for escape. Oskar turned just in time to see an arc of flame cut through the group like a knife, lighting the air with the stench of their burning flesh and their animal screams._

 _"What is this, an ambush?!" The Faithful in front of Oskar, one whose hands he had just laid his daughter's soul in, began to shrink back into the shadows, arms raised to shield his eyes from the fire. "You brought white fire into this place!?"  
_

 _"NO!" Oskar yelped, lunging forward. he fell at the Faithful's feet, clinging to his robes in desperation. "This is no ambush! My wife, please! My daughter is right here, give back my wife as promised!"_

 _The Faithful opened his mouth to object, but before a single sound could pass his foul lips, he was smothered in fire. It engulfed his form and seemed to twist around his limbs, scorching the flesh from his skeleton in mere seconds. Footfalls came to a halt behind Oskar as his amber eyes gawked at the corpse before him that had, only moments ago, been alive in some way. Now only blackened bones remained._

 _The rafters above were ablaze, lighting the entire shrine with blinding light that persisted even after Oskar closed his eyes. He watched from his place on the ground as Magnus stepped around him, eyes driving into the man with a hatred so intense that he desperately tried to look away. He could not._

 _Magnus lifted Rune carefully and held her close. She did not stir in the slightest. Father and son watched one another, the father afraid and the son enraged, as Magnus took his sister and calmly made his way towards the exit._

 _"Your grief has made you weak, Father. The depths to which you've plunged... It's deplorable. I pray your suffering is immense." Magnus' voice was a hiss, one that sliced through Oskar's ears and caused him to recoil._

 _"It is, my son. I swear, should it offer you any solace, that I suffer greatly."_

* * *

Rune stood at the top of her staircase, staring down the imposing steps as they seemed to stretch on into infinity. Both hands were gripped tightly to the wooden railing, and nearly all her weight was placed on the one leg that wasn't bandaged. The other was bent slightly, her toes hovering a few inches from the ground. Despite Faye clearly saying that she should be off of it, the idea of staying locked upstairs was only causing her to worry. Seeing her own short curls in the mirror across her bed was also causing intense worry.

She took one careful hop, gripping tightly to the railing as she steadied herself. For a brief moment she could clearly picture herself putting her full weight on her other leg. She envisioned her own stitches popping open dramatically. Even worse, she saw the sight of Faye stitching her up, starting the whole process over again.

Where was everyone? It was unusual for the house to be so quiet. Of course, it had been silent just that very morn, and then all hell managed to break loose. She half expected to see Kliff or her father padding about, but the entire home seemed to be in an eerie lull.

Quickly and carefully she made her way down the rest of the stairs, painstakingly putting her other foot on the ground. She placed a hand over her thigh as she carefully applied weight to it, quite surprised that the pain was minimal. There was a pinprick and a dull throbbing pain, but the stitches didn't seem to budge. As a matter of fact, upon peeking under her bandages, they seemed to be holding together only a thin red line; the gash had receded to almost nothing.

Faye really was incredible.

She padded her way into the den, quite shocked to see Python thumbing his way through one of the photo albums that she had pulled off of the shelf when she was cleaning. It was strange, seeing the den in disarray.

Rune gathered her thoughts as Python flipped a page and raised his eyebrows at her. She needed to thank him, but the indignant look on his face made her feel as if he were about to say something rude.

Python was never one to disappoint. "Is Hobblin' Hoss gonna join the ranks of the living? Come on over here and let the boys check out your peg leg and haircut."

"That's really not appropriate." She blanched, her thanks failing before she even uttered them.

"Uh, I'd say it's very appropriate, given your situation. But hey, you're up and at 'em already. Guess that means you will be able to march with us, you and a couple of others from the village. Welcome to the squadron, Sport."

With some effort and a great deal of energy, Rune finally encircled the chair across from the soldier and dropped herself into it. Her leg had started to tremble; it seemed it wasn't quite up to full strength yet. "Excuse me? March with you?"

"Yeah, well, they're talkin' it over now, making it the second boring meeting that the big boys are having to suffer through today."

"I don't understand. I mentioned to Kliff just this morning that I wanted to join the Deliverance, but he's the only one I've told. And it was this self-same day, wasn't it? Gods, I don't even know if that really way today…"

"Ya'll really think I don't pay attention, huh? What, just because I'm not jumping in bed with your Pops or breaking bread over the dinner table? Sheesh. Hungry recognizes hungry."

"What exactly does that mean?" She blinked, watching as he got up and tucked the photo album back away on the messy shelf.

"I don't wanna shock you by sounding real astute here, but you couldn't fit in this village if you smeared yourself with manure and took up a pitchfork. I mean, just look at you. You got all busted up traipsing through the woods and fightin' some enemies that villagers and nobles alike piss off from. You…" He wagged a finger at her, almost in accusation. "You want something. Got a bloodthirsty streak in you, or is it that you want glory?"

Rune wasn't really sure how to respond. "I…"

"Yeah, well, it guess that doesn't matter. See, I told my guy that you fight some witches. With the help of me an' Blondie, of course. So whatever you're lookin' for, you can bet your ass you won't find it in this village. Ram will likely be wiped off the map before too long anyways. Wouldn't want to waste a good body, eh?"

"You vouched for me?"

"You're welcome for the favor, Champ. Guess I've been handing those out a little too freely. What you gonna give me to make up for it?" Python yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Yeah, I mean, you owe me your life at this point."

Rune couldn't help but smile, frustrated as she was. "I'll give you a room to sleep in and food to eat at no charge, how does that sound?"

"Sounds alright, I suppose." He jutted a thumb at the bookshelf. "Hey, uh, all that aside, you really think it's cool to just go through folks' stuff? I've got some private stuff in there. Who do you think you are, where's your respect?!"

Her face flushed beet red as she struggled to find words once again. "I- I have no idea what I was thinking, but I didn't read anything of yours! At least, I don't think so. I just started cleaning and then... there was a journal right in front of me!"

"Yeah right, like I would care either way. I'm pulling your leg, kid. You know, the one that works."

* * *

Alm rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, stifling a yawn as Clive, Lukas, Forsyth, Kliff, and Gray bickered around the very same table where he had eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner with his grandfather so many years in a row. He certainly couldn't say that he expected it to ever become a political meeting ground.

"It costs many a resource to feed a growing army. As much as I'd love to say that five more able-bodied people make wonderful additions, we do have to be more careful with our selection process."

"Maybe it's worth remembering that Alm is the one who makes these sorts of decisions, Sir Clive," Gray retorted, an edge of bitterness to his voice. "One of these guys is a trained mercenary who is willing to fight for food alone, he doesn't have any other obligation. And then the other chick is basically a walking wall!"

"Where did you find these people? Did you paste up a wanted poster for soldiers who have nothing better to do?" Kliff asked. The look that Gray gave him led him to believe that actually might have been the case.

"What do you think, Forsyth?" Lukas was scribbling in his ledger and furiously marking things out as he went, likely making a list of pros and cons. Alm duly noted that at least _someone_ among them was organized.

"I cannot say that the other three are worth training up for battle. One is a drifter and one a peddler, at a time like this I can't cast aside the feeling that they could betray us. And the third is completely unfit."

Kliff scoffed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "By the third, you mean Rune?"

Lukas chimed in to interrupt before another debate erupted. "No need to be defensive, Kliff. Though I'm surprised you feel that way, Forsyth. That young woman dispatched of a witch on her own and wounded another. Surely that's worthy of merit, considering that the both of us have had our fair share of close calls with those beasts. At the moment only Kliff, Claire, and Mathilda have been able to handle them in one-on-one combat with ease."

"If I could retire dear Mathilda from fighting such monstrosities, I would take that chance with a heartbeat. That gives her the safety of fighting at my side."

"As if she needs you to protect her…" Gray mumbled, though Clive clearly didn't hear him. "What are your thoughts, Alm?"

"Me?" He sat upright, finding every pair of eyes boring into him. "I, uh… hmm…"

"You had better been paying attention." Kliff uttered with an irritated sigh. "There's no way I'm having this conversation for the third time today. At some point I'd like to be able to visit my newly wounded friend and give her the good word that she has a place in the Deliverance."

Forsyth let out a grunt of distaste and folded his hands on the table, a stormy look set deep upon his brow. "Let us just invite all of the village maidens who have reunited with family to embrace war, shall we?"

"You know full well that an emotional approach to recruitment isn't going to get us anywhere—"

"Guys!" Alm snapped, silencing them all before they began again. "You really can't keep making decisions for people. Whether you're using your heart or your head, it doesn't make a difference. The point is that we have people willing to fight for Zofia. What business do we have saying that they can't? Where would be we if Lukas had just decided that I wasn't good enough on his own?"

Clive's brow furrowed, a minute action that only Lukas seemed to notice. The soldier stiffened, his mind working overtime to decipher that motion. ' _Perhaps he still thinks Alm isn't fit to lead… that, or he's feeling challenged by someone skilled taking up his mantle…'_

"The sellsword, the blacksmith, and Miss Melfia all seem to be the best prospects, but that doesn't mean I'm going to count the others out either. Let's get the ones we can trust integrated and go from there. Let me worry about provisions and lining their pockets. Well, Lukas and I, that is. I'm… maybe not the greatest at calculating all of the fees involved…"

"You got it, buddy." Gray clapped a hand on Alm's shoulder, beaming from ear to ear. "So you're gonna feed us now, right? It's food time?"

Alm let out a sigh of relief, just glad that the horrendous debate was on hold. "That's right, Gray. It's food time."

* * *

An: Hi, I'm so tired and just want to get this lump of a chapter out. I've been stuck on it for ages because I keep writing past it. Anyways, that there is an interesting and revealing flashback, non? I'll proofread on the morrow. Goodnight, read, review!


	21. A Father's Daughter

**One Star to the Next**

 **Chapter 21**

 **A Father's Daughter**

* * *

 **A/N: Boy, some of yall are going to have a field day with this one. Go on, get going, check it out! As always, It's late so I will really proofread later. But thank you so much to my reviewers (and thanks to those of you that logged in so I can respond lol, you know who you are). Also, a special shout out to Dr. Croc for even typing the cursed phrase 'Forsyth is daddy' Thanks, I hate it.**

* * *

"Father?" Rune knocked on the door to the library, though in that moment she wasn't sure why she knocked. It was a library made mostly of books she had collected and bought and accumulated with her own money. She was knocking on a door that she paid for. And still, she knocked before cracking it the smallest bit.

Peering inside, she saw him sitting at her writing desk, his chair turned towards the window. He said nothing. She took that as incentive to walk in and sit at the chair across from the desk. Rune opened a thick, cream-colored envelope and started to unfold the papers inside, finally prompting him to turn and face her.

"What is that?" He asked, his voice mild.

"Paperwork. For the Deliverance."

He said nothing for a few seconds. "I'm not signing paperwork for such a thing."

"Nonsense," Rune chuckled. "You do not have to. I'm an adult, I signed for myself. I just thought I should be the one to tell you before you hear it through gossip."

"Rundeltia…" Oskar heaved a sigh, folding his hands on the desk. "I've barely had any time with you and now you're leaving. I am not angry, nor could I stop you. I am only saddened."

"You could stop me, Father. You just lack the ambition to," she replied coldly. "All this time I've been waiting for you to raise your voice or show your fire. It's taken me an incredibly long time to realize this, but now I understand."

"Rundeltia…"

She raised a hand to silence him, fire blazing in her eyes. "…No, please listen to me."

Oskar only shook his head as Rune pushed the papers in front of him.

"I thought it odd that you've been talking so much to Forsyth, and now I understand. You asked him to look after me. and he does it. Because he _pities_ you. He's kind and feels like it's his obligation. You asked him—or paid him—to keep me from joining the Deliverance, didn't you?"

Much to her surprise, he admitted to this, bobbing his head and giving a shrug of his shoulders. A pathetic and passive admission, but an admission all the same. This only seemed to upset her all the more.

"Why would you ask him to do that? YOU'RE my father, you're right here! With me! Isn't that a father's job? Why should the first man who crosses your path have to do your bidding? It isn't fair!"

"Rune-…"

"Please, just listen!" Her voice broke as she fought to find the words. It was strange, the way they boiled beneath the surface so violently, but now that it was time for them to overflow she could speak none of them. Tears fell long before a syllable passed her lips. "I've been remembering things. At first I thought they were just dreams, but now I'm starting to understand that it's… th-they aren't dreams, are they? They're memories. You, and Magnus, and the arcanists and the cantors… It all really happened, didn't it? You tried to give us both away, over and over."

Oskar said nothing, his lips pressed into a hard, pale line as his eyes remained locked to his own hands, avoiding her gaze at any cost.

"I remember you being strict and kind and passionate. And most of all, I remember that you loved me more than anything else. I want nothing more than that from you. And yet you're passive and meek. And silent. Just so silent… all I want is for you to talk to me! I thought my life would change when I had you back, that we would be like we were before. But that wasn't real, was it? There was no 'before.' That's why there's a disconnect. The ideal of a father who loves me is one of a man who doesn't exist."

When he said nothing, she slammed her palms on the desk, causing him to jump and sharply inhale. "Say something! Look at me!"

Silence filled the room, filled it to the point where Rune felt as if she were going to drown in it. Then he finally spoke. "You cannot understand…" he began, hands trembling. "You could never understand the grief of making your own children suffer."

Rune only stared at him, violently dashing tears away on her sleeve. Gods, was she really hearing this? Those moments, those glimpses, she had prayed that they were only improper reflections in her mind's eye, but the more frequently they came the more clear they seemed to be. Her dream the night before of him offering her soul before a den of evil startled her awake, leaving her lying in her bed paralyzed with horror.

"I have failed you both every step of the way. I knew this, even as I made mistake after mistake. I willingly chose to let neglect and even harm befall the both of you. I even went so far as to invite it upon yourself and Magnus."

Rune flinched at hearing her brother's name come from her father's lips.

"Loss is unlike any magic you could ever begin to imagine. It is a parasite, and once it has a fill of one life, it bounces to another with no hesitation. First I lost your mother, and then I lost myself. Not long after, I lost Magnus. All I had left was you, and I knew that once you were older, once you could understand… I would lose you, as well. So I hid the things that I did. I hid them to spare you, but also to protect myself as well."

"How?" She asked, demanding rather than asking.

He nodded to the shelves behind her. "I was already enveloped in darkness. All I needed to do was understand it."

She glanced back towards the shelves, sick of the way he spoke in circles. But very quickly she understood. The books behind her seemed to leer at her, each binding a giant, dark tooth in the maw of some monster. "…You cursed me."

He was no longer standing, instead leaning against the corner of the desk as he pushed a hand through his graying curls. Sweat beaded on his forehead as tears streamed down his cheeks, though his voice gave no indication of his emotion save for its wavering. "It should have lasted for the rest of your life, but the soul I exchanged was already half-eaten by darkness."

For a moment Rune's blood ran cold, her heart sitting so heavy in her chest that for a moment she felt as if it would stop throbbing.

"My memories of you, then. Of you teaching me to chop wood, to fight with a sword… what is real?"

"Your feelings are real. It's only the darkness that was hidden."

"Anything that would make me hate you," she spat.

Oskar corrected her gently. "Anything that hurt you. I saw so much pain on your little face, Rundeltia. Every child deserves a childhood."

"But not every man deserves so many second chances. I spent years of my life dedicated to being the one who would save you, and I was devastated when the Deliervance did it first. All of my drive and ambition, my longing to be a family again... it really means absolutely nothing." She stood upright so suddenly that her chair went tumbling away, hitting the floor with a loud crack as she bolted for the door.

"Rundeltia, if you would listen-…" Oskar caught her elbow. She snatched it out of his grasp, a grimace of disgust painted on her face.

"What more is there to say?! You're a stranger!" Gods, how her heart ached.

"I… I've toyed with your life. And I've lied to you, and treated you unfairly. The depth of my sorrow and shame is immeasurable. But I love you dearly, and now-…"

"Now what? We can pretend it never happened and live a happy life here in this tiny village in the middle of war? Gods, you're delusional. And Magnus…"

"The curse will unravel all the more quickly now that you know of it. But I warn you, when you are stricken with a decade of grief for those lost memories, you will need someone. You will need your father."

"I've gone this long without you. If it ever comes to the point where I need a pathetic waste of a father in my life, perhaps we can talk then." With that, she stormed out in a flourish, running. Running from her father, running from the truth, running from what she once believed in.

* * *

Kliff slammed his tactics book shut, tousling his messy hair with both hands in frustration as his elbows rested on his desk. As much as he wanted to study, as hard as he tried, the tiny text just seemed to swim before his eyes, jumping around on the pages and blurring as if taunting him. The poor light from his oil lamp wasn't helping.

With the war on the horizon, the already precious commodity of electricity was becoming more and more expensive. The stones that powered so many homes and furnaces were becoming outrageously overpriced. It just so happened that those stones were imported from Archanea, and the largest port in Zofia had been ransacked again and again by pirates picking off the weak and hungry.

Kliff had heard during the liberation of the castle that Celica and her group had made a significant dent in the pirate population out that way, but it only left room for more to come in their place. Easy pickings, as Luthier would say. But the flamestone that kept the well water hot for baths and the thunderstone that kept the lights on were under stress from so many people being packed into his mother's small house that they could scarcely regenerate before their magic was spent again.

As if he really needed anything else to worry about.

He conceded defeat, standing up and giving a long stretch that brought with it a yawn that spoke volumes. He inched the lamp closer to his bed and flopped onto it, grabbing a dog-eared horror novel that he was about half-way through. Every night he had been picking his way through it, grimacing at the gore and rolling his eyes at the actions of the main characters, and yet he couldn't put it down. When he had fallen asleep last night, the main character had been alone in her house. There was a scratching at the door and she just knew that the antagonist, a serial killer with a taste for blondes, had found out that she knew his identity-…

His eyes didn't make it halfway through the first paragraph when a low screech emitted from his window, causing him to sit bolt upright. He almost let out a scream at the sight of a figure pushing his window up, sticking one leg over the sill as they ducked their head. Just as he was about to incinerate their entire existence into another realm with fire, he realized it was Rune.

She dropped to the floor and dusted herself off, closing the window politely behind her as Kliff watched in disbelief, his back pressed against the wall.

"What in the seven blue hells are you doing? You've never even come in my house and now you break in?!" He whispered furiously, trying not to yell. The last thing he needed was to alert his mother.

She blinked at him, her eyes tired and dim. "…It was unlocked." Hazel orbs swept over his room as she slipped her gloves and scarf off. "I've never been in here. It's a complete mess; I wouldn't expect that from you."

"You break in AND criticize me?!" He barked. She started to walk towards him and he swiftly pulled his discarded shirt around him, buttoning it furiously. He gave pause, finally taking a good look at her face. She looked worn and empty, no knowing smirk nor worried brow upon her features. She was expressive, slipping from face to face depending on the situation. Kliff had always found that to be a flaw, since it was always so very obvious when she was lying unless she was hiding it behind a smile, but this was the first time he had been met with, well, nothing.

"What's that on your chest?" She asked, pointing out the precise thing that he had been in a hurry to hide. She plopped down on the edge of his bed unceremoniously and he picked up the faintest hint of Ram wine.

"It's nothing," he said briskly. Truth be told, he was ashamed of his near death experience. The scar served as an ugly reminder of how careless and confident he had been. "More importantly, you're going to get in trouble if my Mom finds out you're here. Not that she hates you or anything, just… you know…"

"I wasn't even thinking about that. Sorry, I'll go." She started to rise and he grabbed her wrist, hating the emptiness in her voice.

An irritated sigh passed his lips. "Actually, just… at least tell me what you're here for first. This isn't like you at all. And you smell like you've been drinking."

"A little, not much. I still have my wits about me, but I admit I don't feel the cold anymore." She wouldn't meet his eye. "My father and I… we had a disagreement. I didn't want to stay there so I gave Python my bed. When I went to grab some books, there was some _girl_ in it…"

Kliff wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, forget it. You can stay here, it's fine."

Rune only gave a singular nod, filling the air with a stinging silence. She stared at the pillow next to him and then gave him a wan stare as he sat against the wall, studying her with eyes that were looking for answers. Finally, she spoke. "May I sit there?"

"What?" He glanced beside him and then scooted over, making room. "Uh, yeah, that's fine."

The bed shifted as she crawled over next to him. He only expected her to sit shoulder to shoulder, but she curled up next to him, her cheek pressed against his chest. Her right hand rested under her chin on his sternum, fingers hanging tight to his shirt as if for dear life. He could feel the rapid thunder of her heart as her chest pressed against his side and her knees tucked in, as if curling up tight would protect her from, well, _something_.

He was frozen until he heard her shaky breaths and realized she was crying. "You… wow. You must be wasted," he forced a laugh, feeling her shake her head no without even uttering a response. "…You're not upset because Python has a girl in your bed, are you?" Again, her response was another slow shake of her head, a simple and silent no. "So it's your father, then."

"Please," she pleaded for his silence in a voice that sounded used up. "I-I just…"

"Just be quiet and cry about it, then," he said haughtily. And though it sounded bitter, she knew that he meant it and meant well.

He tentatively pulled an arm around her neck, touching his chin to the top of her head. What other comfort was he supposed to offer? This wasn't like her. Hell, it wasn't like anyone he had ever known. How was he supposed to be a comforter when he, in truth, had never comforted a soul with his touch? A pat on the shoulder or a half-hearted hug was the most he had ever delivered upon. It was rare for Kliff to be in a situation where his words or his wits couldn't fix a problem.

Time passed, though neither of them really knew how much. When Rune started speaking, her tears had dried and the sound of her voice startled Kliff out of a doze.

"Do you remember when we first met?" She asked, sounding hoarse. Truthfully, she presumed he was already asleep. His breathing had gone steady and his heart rate had slowed from a violent drumming to a comfortable lull.

"Yeah, how could I forget? You were reckless as hell and almost got me dragged into a fight I didn't ask for. I was a kid back then. Really shrimpy."

"And then I didn't see you for nearly a year. Or was it more?"

"Probably just a bit more," he corrected. He didn't want to point out that he saw six seasons pass over the axe that she had left there; he had walked by it every day and stolen a glance on his way home from school. "When you came back, you had that scar."

"We spent almost every day together for two years, at least it seemed that way. I don't think I've ever had a friend like that before. One that I woke up and thought about. One that could turn my day around completely. I've always… I never…" her nails scratched lightly at his chest as her hand formed a fist again, her throat tensing and threatening to close.

"It's alright."

"And now I have these people around me that have been kind to me. Python, and Tobin, and especially Faye and Forsyth… and I have no idea how to act around them. It's not as easy as it was with you. Nothing ever has been."

"You were really charismatic, you know, back then."

"Back then, I had something to fight for. But everything has changed."

"We've changed, too," he added. Rune let out a sigh, one that left her feeling cold.

"You found yourself. And I lost myself."

"Rune, I think you should be happy. I mean, today you joined the Deliverance. Where do you think I found my voice? Don't count yourself out before you even begin."

She wanted to tell him that it had nothing to do with that, but couldn't. Instead she only nodded. Silence began to fill the air once more until finally Kliff broke it.

"The last time I laid next to you, you woke up and killed a man," he mused. Rune only blinked in stunned silence, not sure how to respond.

"You… didn't have to word it like that. But yes, that's true. And you were just a long, skinny beanpole back then," she teased, draping her arm over his chest and giving him a squeeze. And to his shock, she shifted up on her elbow and dropped a kiss on his jaw. Quick, thoughtless, simple, soft. Just a quick kiss that made his arm hair stand on end and his mouth go dry. Her lips were gone before he even realized, really, that she had done it, and she continued quietly chattering on as nothing had happened.

Which, he realized, nothing _had_ happened. It was an affectionate peck. Like a grandma happy to see her grandkids when they came to visit for summer vacation. It was why she didn't react, and why she didn't find it out of place. Sure, it wasn't like her, but she had also had wine and-…

Ugh, that made it even worse.

The quiet returned, though this time it was peaceful. Rune was dozing, her pain forgotten if only for a while, as her fingers toyed with one of his shirt buttons idly. He had gone back to his book, a comfortable peace erasing the troubled air that had filled the room.

"Tell me about that scar, okay? I told you about mine, and it's not one I can hide," she mumbled some time later.

"Then you have to tell me why you really came here crying. What happened with your father?" Kliff challenged her.

"I promise I'll tell you when I'm ready to handle it for myself. ...I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you, Kliff."

"Then go to sleep and don't think about stuff like that. I'm fine. It's your dumb- it's you that I'm worried about."


End file.
